Ayla's POV
I could still hear Mira's voice, persuasive and impossible to mute, echoing outside my door.
"You're going to work tomorrow."
It wasn't advice. It sounded more like a threat.
I shoved it aside, threw myself onto the bed, and pulled the blanket over my head like I could hide from the world. The mattress sank under my weight, soft yet suffocating.
The room was dim and quiet, only the weak glow from my phone painting faint shapes on the ceiling. The fan hummed lazily above, stirring the silence. I rolled onto my side, then onto my back again, but sleep stayed far away.
When the silence started pressing too hard against my chest, I reached for my phone. The screen lit my face. Three missed calls from Mum and a message. I sighed and unlocked it.
Her message sat there, bright and cheerful, exactly like her voice.
