was watching him through the reflection in the microwave door. I expected the usual routine: a quick smile, a comment about the card’s design, and the excitement of whatever small bill was tucked inside. I waited for the lightheartedness that usually followed.
Instead, the atmosphere in the kitchen turned cold. As Adrian pulled the card from the envelope and read the words inside, the color drained from his face. He didn’t laugh, and he didn’t show me the money. He sat frozen, his fingers trembling slightly as he gripped the
