ZAYDEAriana had been distant. I could tell because of how nervous she usually got, the impatient tap of her ring against something, how fidgety she was becoming. It had been too glaring and I discarded it as small fry.At first, I thought it was work as usual but deep down, my instincts pointed me in the lane I didn't want to venture down into. And like my mom usually said, “your intuitions are always right.” Of course, she was right. Maybe I'd been a fool blind to it.Some days ago, she had replied me in clipped tones, avoided my eyes a few times and even pulled away from my touch. Something was off. My gut twisted every time I thought about it.I sat at the dining table, staring absently at the meal on it. It was sumptuous alright, but not enticing enough to distract me from the burdens of my heart. When I raised my eyes, I found my mother watching me carefully from across the table.“Is something bothering you, Zayde?” She asked, her tone sharp as always. She used that tone on m
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