Outside, Malia, Orla, their mother, Sophia, Cyran, and his mom, Mrs. Carver all made their way to their cars.
"Are you alright?" Orla asked Malia who leaned her head on her shoulder as she half-hugged her outside the car. Malia's face was pale, her usually vibrant demeanor subdued. She nodded faintly, though her silence spoke volumes.
"I'll be fine," Malia whispered, her voice trembling. "I just... I didn't expect tonight to turn out like this."
Orla tightened her arm around her sister. "None of us did," she murmured, glancing toward their mother, Sophia, who was speaking quietly with Mrs. Carver. The older woman's face was etched with worry, her lips pressed into a thin line as if trying to contain her unease.