JOANNA POV:
The living room was bathed in soft chandelier light, casting long shadows over the plush beige sofa where I sat, trying to lose myself in the endless scroll of my phone. The muted sound of the television hummed in the background, blending with the faint clink of my mother's teacup as she shifted it on the glass table.
Across from me, my parents occupied the two-seater, their postures relaxed but upright. My father had his arm draped lazily along the backrest, his fingers intermittently tapping a rhythm. My mother sat prim and poised beside him, her face glowing with the contentment that comes from sharing trivial pleasures with family.
