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“Wait, so you mean you shouldn’t have seen it?” Mr. Lay asked, his face filled with confusion. “Then how did you get it?”

“I’m not sure. One morning, I found it sitting on my doorstep. No note, no indication of who sent it, no return address. Just the book, wrapped in plain paper, with that ‘For Review’ label on the inside. It’s as if it was meant for someone else, but somehow ended up with me.”

Mrs. Lay raised an eyebrow. “And you just started reading it?”

David laughed, “You know her — she can’t resist the pull of a book, even if it’s a strange one.”

Amelia offered a faint smile, shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the weight of the mystery settling deeper into her chest. “But yes, I felt like I needed to share this with all of you. I’ll keep reading it over the next few days, and if I uncover anything important, you’ll be the first to know. I just… I have this feeling that this book is leading me somewhere. Or whoever sent me the book is trying to tell me something.”

“Alright, alright, Amelia. Enough of the story for now—dinner’s ready!” Mr. Lay said with a chuckle as he stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers. He walked into the kitchen, the aroma of a home-cooked meal filled the room, cutting through the lingering tension in the air. Amelia watched him go, her mind still swirling with the book’s mysteries. She turned to David, feeling the weight of the unfinished conversation hang between them.

“It’s okay babe, we’ll talk more about this later after we go home,” David said softly.

"Yeah, let's not worry about it right now," Mr. Lay said over his shoulder. "Dinner's almost ready."

Amelia nodded absently, her thoughts still distant. Mr. Lay stood up, following the scent of the meal into the kitchen. The warm light from the overhead fixtures cast a cozy glow on the small dining area, where the table was already set with steaming plates of roasted vegetables and freshly carved lamb. It was comforting, but her mind kept drifting back to the book.

“Amelia! Are you gonna help me?” Mr. Lay called from the kitchen, his tone playful but expectant.

Amelia blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. She hurried over to the kitchen, where her dad stood with a bowl of salad in one hand and a stack of plates in the other.

“Sorry, Dad,” Amelia murmured, taking the plates from him.

Mr. Lay gave her a knowing look. “Still thinking about that book, aren’t you?”

Amelia forced a small smile as she began setting the table. “Yeah… it’s just—never mind. Let’s eat.”

……