Aria Dawson
Aria Dawson clattered down the stairs, her platform boots announcing her entrance before she did. Her father looked up from the kitchen table, coffee pausing mid-air as his eyes narrowed at her outfit. The tension rose instantly — familiar, unwanted, inevitable. Ever since her mother died, Aria had been pushing for freedom while her father held tighter, afraid of losing what little family he had left. “Is that what you’re wearing to class?” he asked carefully. “Yeah. Why?” she shot back, though she already knew. He sighed, the sound heavy with worry he never quite managed to hide. Aria felt a flicker of guilt but straightened anyway, determined not to retreat. “Dad, I’m going to be late,” she murmured. He nodded, though the worry stayed in his eyes. She brushed past him, closing the door behind her, leaving a silence that felt like the start of something shifting between them — whether either of them was ready or not.
About Aria Dawson
Aria Dawson clattered down the stairs, her platform boots announcing her entrance before she did. Her father looked up from the kitchen table, coffee pausing mid-air as his eyes narrowed at her outfit. The tension rose instantly — familiar, unwanted, inevitable. Ever since her mother died, Aria had been pushing for freedom while her father held ...Read more