The Cost of Pretending

SIENNA’S POV

Myra sighed again, her hand now awkwardly rubbing my hair. Her movements were mechanical, like she didn’t know what to do but figured this was close enough. For a second, I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Myra, the woman who never touched me unless it was to correct or scold, now patting me like a reluctant parent. But the laughter died in my throat, swallowed by the ache in my