Morana's Point of View
The moment I stepped into the house, a familiar warmth washed over me.
It was quiet, peaceful, a sharp contrast to the chaos I had just walked away from.
And there he was, my grandfather sitting in his favorite armchair, dressed in his usual dark robe, a cup of tea in one hand and his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His presence alone had a way of making everything feel less overwhelming.
He looked up the moment I entered, his piercing gray eyes scanning me carefully.
Then, he smiled.
"There's my troublemaker."
I grinned, dropping my bags and walking straight into his warm embrace. "Missed me that much?"
He chuckled, patting my back. "You were only gone for a few hours, Morana."
I pulled back, shrugging. "Still counts."
I sat across from him as he took a slow sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving mine.
Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he said, "I saw what happened on the news."
Ah. So, he knew.
