Vincent POV
The morning began with Myra sitting at the edge of the couch, her knees pulled together, her hands balled in her lap. She kept glancing at the phone on the table as if waiting for it to ring on its own. I had never seen her this unsettled. She was usually the child who had an answer for everything, quick with words. Today, she was silent, dealing with her emotions.
I took a seat beside her. “She will call,” I said. My voice remained calm despite the tension in the house, which had made my shoulders feel heavy. “Your friends will be back at school soon.”
Her fingers pressed together in a nervous rhythm. “But she said she would tell me. She always tells me.”
I placed a hand over hers. “She will. Sometimes adults get busy.”
“Is she upset because I cried yesterday?” Myra asked
