Sarah hurried to the scene, her frown deepened at the sight of the growing crowd. Her sigh was audible, her expression a mixture of sadness and frustration.
'Why is my daughter like this? Where does she get this personality from?' she wondered, her thoughts carrying a trace of exhaustion.
The murmurs of the crowd picked up as Sarah approached, her elegant presence commanding attention.
She was striking—a woman with long light-brown hair cascading over her shoulders, ocean-blue eyes that seemed to carry both warmth and sorrow and a mature beauty.
"Isn't that Layla's mother?" someone whispered.
"It is. She's so beautiful. I wonder what she thinks of all this…"
"Yeah, but look at her face. She doesn't look happy."
Sarah ignored the whispers, her focus solely on her daughter. Her gaze briefly met Noah's, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her expression before she turned back to Layla. Without hesitation, she grabbed Layla's arm firmly.
