Chapter 18 Aria

• “I need to return to work,” I comment to my mother as I wash the dishes. The warm water runs through my fingers, carrying away the remnants of breakfast, but it cannot erase the tension that clings to my mind.
• I sense my mother’s presence even before I turn to see her. I hear the soft sound of her footsteps across the kitchen until she abruptly stops halfway to the pantry. It has been a few days since I was released from prison, and even now, the feeling of confinement still lingers over me, like a shadow that refuses to depart. Our savings are dwindling, an abyss that widens with each passing day that I do not return to work. I need to go back; I need to face reality.
• “Aria, that is not a good idea,” Lyra responds, her voice filled with a worry that is as dense as the air in the small kitchen. She does not need to say anything more for me to feel the weight of her words. I continue washing the dishes, my movements mechanical and methodical, while my eyes fixate on the small garden that stretches across from the window.