Azhani knew something was wrong the moment her parents called her into the living room. They sat stiffly on the couch, hands folded, while her mother forced a tight smile—the one she used before saying something cruel. Ariani lounged in the armchair, uninterested, as if this had nothing to do with her. Of course, it didn’t. Azhani was always the one stuck with their decisions.
Her mother patted the seat beside her. “Sit down, sweetheart.”
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