Sunlight spilled through the windows, lighting up drifting flecks of dust.
Their mom hummed tunelessly in the kitchen, chopping vegetables.
The steady thunk of her knife echoed through the space.
She glanced at the stairs, frowning. "Lila! Homework!"
Nothing.
She sighed and tried again, louder. "Lila!"
Silence.
She grumbled to herself, chopping a little harder. "That girl. Always with the phone, always with the makeup. If she studied half as much as she films those ridiculous videos..."
She thunked the knife into the cutting board for effect.
"I should burn that makeup set. Every last piece. Leo's fault, buying her those stupid kits!"
She stopped to catch her breath, her voice softer. "He spoils her too much."
But the irritation in her voice was already giving way to something gentler—a tired kind of love.
Upstairs, Lila sat cross-legged on her bed, phone propped against books, ring light casting a soft glow.
