"Late again," I grumbled, my frustration evident as I watched her rush in. But as I drew closer, my annoyance faded. Her face, usually so bright, was shadowed with a sadness that tugged at my heart. Gently, I placed my hand on her head, stroking her hair with the tenderness only a mother could offer. I could feel something was amiss, a heaviness in the air that hadn't been there before. "What's troubling you, my dear?" I asked softly, my eyes searching hers, seeking to understand the pain she was carrying, but unable to voice...

As I watched Laila head upstairs, a deep sense of unease settled over me. My heart ached with a mother's intuition, that undeniable pull that tells you when your child is hurting, even when they won't say a word. I felt a knot form in my stomach, the soup bubbling on the stove forgotten as my mind raced with concern.

I wanted to rush after her, to hold her and demand to know what was wrong, but I knew that wouldn't help. Laila was shutting herself off, and that frightened me more than anything else. The house felt heavy with her silence, and I was desperate to break through it, to find the words that would unlock whatever was burdening her.

Sarah's voice pulled me back, her young eyes wide with worry, mirroring my own. "Mom, something's not right with Laila. She looks so dull," she said, her tone laced with the same concern I felt.

I forced a reassuring smile for Sarah's sake, though inside, I was anything but calm. "I know, sweetie. I'll talk to her later, after she's had some time to rest," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

But as I turned back to the stove, stirring the soup absentmindedly, my thoughts were only with Laila, replaying her entrance over and over in my mind. The way she avoided my gaze, the exhaustion in her voice—these were not the marks of a simple long day.

I felt an overwhelming urge to protect her, to shield her from whatever was weighing her down. The fear of not knowing gnawed at me, and I made a silent promise to myself to get to the bottom of it, to be there for her, no matter what.

It might seem like an ordinary day, but something doesn't feel right about her...