Coco entered the house, the tension in the air thick and suffocating.
A stifling atmosphere clung to the room, filling the space with an uneasy feeling, and she could almost sense the emotional storm brewing between the four mediators present in the room.
Something had happened, and she could tell.
Even if they did not say anything, she could tell within the way the four of them avoided eye contact, the way their conversations were hushed and strained before it died down when Zaque opened the door, the way glances were stolen and hastily averted.
Coco chose to ignore it, not wanting to be caught in the fight between them.
Coco moved silently through the house, her footsteps light and soft against the wooden floorboards, her grip on the basket tightening.
