The Weight of Absence

FREYA'S POV

It had been a week since my real dad came back.

I still hadn't figured out how to talk to him.

We said things like "good morning" and "good night" and sometimes he asked if I wanted tea. I always said no, even when I wanted it. The words between us were stiff. They had sharp edges. I didn't know how to soften them. Each syllable felt like glass in my mouth—fragile and dangerous at the