Descending the stairs, Sumaya paused when she saw her mother sitting on the living room couch, a thick photo album laid open across her lap. Avanya's fingers were gently tracing over a picture, as if touching it could bring the memory back to life.
The tension in her mother's shoulders was palpable, even from where Sumaya stood. It was the kind of stiffness that came from carrying too many unspoken worries.
Sumaya bit her lip, wondering if her mother was still thinking about the bruises—her father had left on her. She didn't bother applying the fake bruises makeup today, and with him gone on a business trip, there was no need to keep pretending.
"Good morning, Mom," Sumaya greeted, forcing her voice to sound bright and cheerful, even though something about the scene made her chest ache.
Startled, Avanya glanced up quickly, as if pulled from another world. A smile touched her lips, though it didn't quite reach her tired eyes.
