Olivia's POV
After I left the table and stepped outside, I felt like I could finally breathe again.
The back door closed behind me softly, muffling the voices and sounds of silverware inside. Out here, in the backyard where I'd played in as a child, everything felt quieter. Calmer. Less suffocating.
I'm not usually like this - emotional, fragile, on the verge of tears for reasons I couldn't fully explain. But something about today had cracked something open inside me, and I didn't know how to seal it back up.
I walked to the old swing set Dad had built when Kennedy and I were kids. The wood was weathered now, the paint chipped, but it still held strong as I lowered myself onto one of the swings.
I pushed off gently, letting the moving swing soothe some of the chaos in my mind.
This is so messed up.
