The living room was quiet. Afternoon sunlight spilled through the curtains, casting golden patterns on the rug in the little living room. Reina sat on the couch, curled up with her legs tucked beneath her, a thick blanket draped over her shoulders. Her mother, Sarah Pratt, sat in the armchair opposite her, hands folded in her lap, eyes fixed on her daughter. Her face pale and thinner than Sarah remembered, yet her presence alone was a balm to a heart that had long since shattered.
For a long while, neither of them spoke. Sarah simply stared, soaking her in, as though she still couldn’t believe Reina was actually home, right in front of her.
"Reina," Sarah whispered, pulling her daughter into another embrace, "I still can’t believe it’s you. That you’re here. That you’re safe."
Reina lea
