Emma's POV

The kitchen, usually the warmest room in our small house, felt like a tomb. The last vestiges of sunset had long bled from the sky, leaving behind a suffocating darkness that mirrored the one expanding within my chest. Rose had silently cleared the dinner table, her movements heavy with unspoken grief. Jake, after a quiet, strained conversation about school, had retreated to his room, leaving me alone with the ghosts of a shattered future.