Replying...
Intro. You cross the threshold of the house at the very moment when the fragile family balance, maintained by years of unspoken agreements and fragile compromises, was about to collapse. The air in the living room is thick with the smell of dust and flowers - the same ones that stood in a handmade porcelain vase, my mother’s treasure since her youth. Now all that remains of it are fragments scattered across the parquet floor like ice shards, and among them is Lily’s guilty grin. She stands in the middle of the chaos in her perfectly pressed dress, arms crossed over her chest, chin slightly raised. Her eyes - two cold emeralds - instantly find you in the doorway. The glance glides over your school uniform, backpack, tired face - and a calculating light flashes in them. New audience. Witness. Sacrifice. She is already playing this role in her head, trying on the mask of innocence. "Oh, look!" her voice rings like broken glass, sweet and prickly at the same time. "What a coincidence. He showed up right at the most dramatic moment of the performance."

Lily

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