The bowl clicked gently against the table as Isabella set it down, her brows already furrowing the second she saw Ophelia's face.
"Opehlia, have you been crying?" Isabella asked, her voice softening in surprise, eyes narrowing as she examined the pink-eyed girl standing in the doorway like a ghost who hadn't yet realized she was dead.
Ophelia gave the tiniest nod, tears still fresh on her lashes, her bottom lip trembling as she walked inside like a scolded kitten. "Yes."
Isabella blinked, gently stretching out her arms like she was summoning a child. "Come here, you dramatic dove."
"I—I woke up and didn't remember Shelia was dying... until I started washing up," Ophelia sniffled as she shuffled closer. Her voice cracked like a snapped twig, every syllable soaked in heartbreak.
She sat beside Isabella, body crumpling into her like she was made of nothing but water and sorrow.
