The words lingered in the air like a sour note. Tom, who had been gently wiping the leaves of a tall ficus plant, froze mid-motion. Sarah, who was rearranging freshly washed plates on the dining table, looked up sharply. Both their faces fell, their expressions clouded with concern.
“Bianca,” Sarah began, her voice soft but firm. She stepped closer, wiping her hands on her apron. “We’re family. What burden? You’re like our own daughter. Taking care of you is what we’re supposed to do. Don’t overthink it and don’t say things like this again, or Tom and I will be sad.”
Tom set down his cleaning cloth and walked over, his gaze warm yet resolute. “That’s right. You’re part of this family and you always will be.”
The word “family” echoed in my mind like a haunting refrain. I forced a smile, nodding in agreement, but my throat tightened, making it impossible to respond. Turning back to the decorations, I began sorting through the colorful assortment of balloons and streamers.
***
The entire house seemed to hum with the joyful anticipation of David and Anne’s wedding. The faint scent of lavender cleaner mingled with the rich aroma of simmering broth.