Clash of Emotions

Meanwhile, at home, Annabelle had just woken up from her nap. The soft, warm embrace of her duvet reluctantly released her as she stretched and yawned. The sunbeams filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow in her room. It was a peaceful afternoon, or so she thought.

With a soft sigh, she threw her legs over the edge of the bed and slipped her feet into her slippers. Her home was usually a sanctuary, a place of comfort, but today it was about to turn into a battleground.

Annabelle padded downstairs to the kitchen, her tousled hair framing her sleepy face. Unbeknownst to her, a storm was brewing at the dining table, where Lydia Sherly's friend had taken up residence, engrossed in her phone. She was a guest in Annabelle's home, but she had intentions far from being a gracious one.