Isla’s POVToday was my eighteenth birthday. Yet nothing was ceremonious or happy.The air was thick with accusations, almost making it difficult to breathe without feeling suffocated. Even the silence was weighing down on me like a double-edged sword. Neither could I bear it, nor did I want them to open their mouths and put all the blame on me somehow. My place, my role, was clear. It had always been like this. So, why would anything be different today, especially when their precious Elara was dead?My father stood at the head of the table, with a grim expression, his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. Ryan looked outside the window towards the main gate as if he expected Elara to walk through the gate any moment, his demeanor distant and unforgiving. My mother sat on the edge of her seat, still sobbing, her puffy red eyes full of accusation and more.But it was Adrian's presence that made me the most nervous, even when he stood still in a corner. His bloodshot, unblinking
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