Danielle woke up Tuesday morning to the smell of food, her stomach growling. She hadn't eaten properly in over a week, and it was strange to actually feel hungry.
She still hadn't talked to Seth since Saturday, when they’d parted at the front door—him handing her off to Christina with a dry, "Here, now she's your problem," before walking away. Danielle had spent most of the last few days in bed, refusing to talk to anyone or come out except to use the bathroom.
But today? Today, she almost felt normal again.
She didn’t know why. Maybe it was the smell of bacon. Maybe it was sleep. Maybe it was just time. But something inside her had shifted—just enough to make standing up feel possible again.
Still in her T-shirt and sweatpants, she padded down the hall toward the kitchen, drawn in by
