Livia refused to unpack all the bags.
Noah's pajamas went into the second drawer. His socks went into the first. His dinosaur books found a shelf beside the bed, and his toothbrush stood in a blue cup near the sink. Everything else stayed inside the suitcases. Half-open. Ready. A silent reminder that this was temporary.
Temporary mattered.
Temporary meant the house did not own her. Temporary meant Dante's walls were not a promise she had made. Temporary meant she could leave before safety became dependence.
At noon, Dante asked if they could speak in the sitting room at the end of the upstairs hall. Livia agreed only because Noah had fallen asleep after declaring the garden too big and the stairs suspicious. She left his bedroom door open and chose a chair where she could still see him
