(Ayra's POV)
The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow over my room, but it did nothing to lift the heavy weight pressing against my chest.
I blinked at the ceiling, feeling drained, as if the little energy I had managed to restore overnight had been stolen in my sleep.
My limbs felt like lead, my mind foggy, and the thought of dragging myself out of bed and facing the world felt unbearable.
I turned onto my side, pulling the covers tighter around me, trying to block out the nagging voice in my head telling me to get up.
Yesterday had been a blur.
I hadn't gone to work. I hadn't done much of anything except lie in bed, lost in thought, my mind tangled in the mess of my own fears.
Nana had checked in on me a few times, worried as always, but I assured her I was just tired.
It was a lie, of course.
I wasn't just tired—I was drowning in thoughts, overwhelmed by the weight of the truth I had uncovered.
