(Michelle Lui's POV)
Sunday mornings were not usually quiet in our house.
Dad liked to watch business news at a volume that suggested the TV owed him money.
Mom liked playing old Mandarin love songs while cleaning.
The helpers moved around preparing brunch like a well-rehearsed dance troupe.
But today?
It felt muted.
Or maybe I was muted.
Yesterday's physics lab confrontation still clung to me like static — silent but prickling under my skin whenever I moved too fast or thought too deeply.
I had slept, technically.
But it was the kind of sleep that wasn't real rest — more like my brain shut down for maintenance and immediately rebooted into the same emotional mess.
And now?
I was awake.
Alive.
And painfully aware of everything.
Especially the things Lara said.
Opened her legs for Anthony.
Stole Steven.
Tragic heroine act.
Kissed?
Words like barbed wire.
Words meant to hurt.
Words that did hurt.
