As I touched the cover, feeling the slightly upraised letters of the title, I could have sworn I heard faint laughter coming from inside the book. I was about to open it when I heard a shout and a buzz almost simultaneously. I vaguely registered my phone blinking at me from my desk as I silently opened my bedroom door and crept to the top of the stairs.

Raised voices reached my ears—a heated conversation between Mom and Dad. The latter's voice was tense, almost sharp. "I went up to the attic a few hours ago and saw that some boxes had been shifted around. Upon further inspection, I also noticed a specific book was missing from one of the boxes. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Daniela?"

I sucked in a sharp breath, clapping a hand over my mouth when I realized my mistake. Dad almost never called Mom by her full name—I could only recall him doing so a handful of times in memory. Mom's voice was equally as tight when she responded. "If you're asking whether or not I've removed Unknown Paradise from one of the numerous boxes in the attic, the answer is no, Declan. Do you think Malia has seen it?"

I choked when I heard my name. Dad exhaled a tight breath, his voice rising until he was nearly shouting. "I don't know. I told you to get rid of it months ago! It's already caused enough trouble for me. I don't want Malia dragged into it!"

Mom scoffed. "It's a little late for that now, isn't it? If she's already seen it, what's to stop her from reading it? You've already lost me; if things keep going the way I think they're going, you'll lose Malia, too!"

I jumped when I heard Dad yell from the kitchen, his voice booming. "What's to stop me from taking her with me? You've made it clear you don't want anything to do with me, so why shouldn't I? She's my daughter, too! She'll never have to worry about her parents' impending divorce—"

My heart stopped dead; the breath left my lungs in a rush as my legs gave out and I sat down, hard, on the stairs. Dad's voice cut off at the sound, and I heard his footsteps as he walked from the kitchen to the bottom of the staircase. "Malia?" His face was deathly pale; his eyes were filled with anger, but they softened quickly as he beheld my expression.

Mom was at his side in a heartbeat, equally pale as she looked up at me with heartbroken tears in her eyes. "We never meant for you to hear any of that. We were going to tell you, but there just never seemed to be the right time, so we kept putting it off. Why don't the three of us sit down together, and we can talk about—"

I didn't stay to hear any more. Both Mom and Dad called after me, but I didn't stop. The pounding of my feet echoed in my ears as I rushed back up to my room, barely able to see through the tears cascading down my cheeks. With shaking hands, I grabbed my phone, firing off a rushed text to Will. I'll be at ur house in 10. I'll explain when I get there.

Slipping my phone into my pocket, I flung open my closet door and fumbled around. My breath came fast and sharp as I found an old backpack and began shoving clothes into it. After filling it to the brim, I forced it closed and slung it over my shoulders.

The edge of a black-and-white book caught my eye, and I froze as I paused. Unknown Paradise. In the midst of eavesdropping on Mom and Dad and hearing the latter's heartbreaking confession, I had all but forgotten about the book. Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the book and hugged it close to my chest as I left my room. Tense, worried silence greeted me as I walked downstairs, but Mom and Dad hadn't moved from where they stood at the bottom of the stairs.

I didn't look at either of them as I strode for the front door, my heart slamming against my chest like it wanted to escape. When Mom spoke, her voice was tight, as if she were holding back tears. "Sweetheart, please. Let's talk before you do anything—"

The sound of the front door slamming shut cut off Mom's words. I didn't look back as I got into my car, the tears slowing fractionally as I threw the backpack and the book into the passenger seat. My phone buzzed, but I didn't stop to glance at it as I started the engine, my hands shaking as I gripped the wheel. Tears flowed down my cheeks, blurring my vision and making it difficult to see the road in front of me. When I finally reached Will's house, my body felt foreign and heavy.

Faint and muffled voices reached my ears. They scratched the surface, but didn't penetrate the anger- and shock-induced haze that had fallen over me in the wake of Dad's confession.

"Lia? What are you doing here? Lia, can you hear me?"

"Malia? You're shaking! What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Malia, are you okay?"

I didn't answer, didn't do anything but stare straight ahead, my hands white-knuckled on the wheel. The haze of anger and shock slowly ebbed away, replaced by a welcome sense of numbness as I felt gentle, warm hands on me. Turning off the engine and lifting me out of the driver's seat, walking me through their house, and into their living room, where I collapsed on the couch. Will's voice was low and soft as he spoke into my ear. "I've got you, Lia. Just breathe, my love."

It was only when I did as he said that I realized I was crying. Quiet, muffled sobs wracked my body as swiftly as the news had hit me. Will pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. I cried until I had no tears left, until my body felt worn and my face was tight. Mrs. Callahan spoke up from beside me a heartbeat before she handed me a glass of water. "Here you go, sweetie."

It had become a monumental task to open my mouth, much less remember how to speak. Liv wrapped a blanket around my shivering shoulders. "Can we do anything for you, Malia?"

I forced myself to answer, my voice hoarse and worn from crying. "No—no, thank you. I'm—I'm sorry for just—just showing up like this." I began to hiccup as I felt any lingering sadness drain from my body, all emotion replaced by a complete sense of numbness.

Will sat on my other side and tenderly laced my fingers with his. I turned to Will, focusing on the flecks of green in his wide hazel eyes. The sobs had finally lessened to choked, barely audible sniffles, but my body felt heavy—it was all I could do to keep my head up.

Mrs. Callahan's eyes were as wide as Will's when she noticed the bulging backpack at my feet. "Oh no, sweetie. Don't apologize. Did something happen with your parents?"

Just when I thought I had no tears left, that single word—parents—set me off again. I didn't hear my phone buzzing and chiming; I would have remained oblivious had Will not gently said, his voice just as soft as before, "It's your mother. She's worried about you."

I swiped at my damp eyes and runny nose, fervently shaking my head. "I can't—I don't—" My voice broke as more tears rolled down my cheeks. "I can't talk to her right now."

Mrs. Callahan exchanged a glance with Will, then spoke again. "Ok, sweetie. Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat."

All I wanted to do was crawl under the covers and block out the world—not to mention Mom and Dad's shouting match, which still rang in my ears—but I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten something. I shook my head, regretting it immediately as the world spun in my vision. Will softly kissed the top of my head. "Eat something, and then you can sleep."

After I'd forced down a single piece of toast at Mrs. Callahan and Will's urging, the latter brought me to the guest bedroom. Only after he'd shut the door did he speak, his voice low. "Are you ready to tell me what's going on?"

My hands trembled, but I squeezed them into fists. Will sat on the edge of the bed, gently taking my hand again. I didn't recognize my voice when I spoke. It was hoarse, worn from crying, and shaking with shock. "My p-parents... They're g-getting a divorce."

When the last word left my mouth, exhaustion slammed into me head-on. Will noticed, gently easing me back against the pillows. "Sleep, Lia. You need to rest. I'm not going anywhere."

I didn't want to sleep—I knew if I did, all I would see and hear was Mom and Dad's shouting match—but my body had other plans. The last thing I was aware of before surrendering to the unconsciousness tugging at me was Will brushing a limp strand of hair off my forehead.