By the time we return to the house, the sun has fully dipped below the horizon, leaving a soft afterglow that fades into the darkening sky. The lights from inside spill onto the porch, casting warm, welcoming shadows as we step through the door. The smell of dinner fills the air, something savoury and comforting, just what we all need after the emotional tension from our walk.
Helen greets us with a smile that, for once, doesn’t have its usual sharp edge. “Dinner’s ready,” she says, glancing my way with something resembling genuine concern in her eyes. “Come on, Tess, sit down before you wear yourself out.”
I smile faintly, grateful that she’s holding her tongue tonight. Maybe it’s because my mom’s around, or maybe she’s realized that there’s enough tension without her usual remarks. Wha
