(Rose’s POV)
Two days had passed, and my house hadn’t felt a shred of peace or anything close to comfort.
The air itself hadn't remained the same since Angela's arrival, like the room had learned how to weep in pain. Like everything had grown teeth.
In all my years of opening my door to friends, family, and weary wanderers, I had never experienced anything that looked like this kind before.
It wasn’t the quietness that came with comfort or rest. It was a quietness so heavy it pressed against my nerves, thick as mist, and sharp as a knife.
Angela had not left the restroom in forty-eight hours.
At first, I thought it was one of those moments when grief pushes a person into retreat for a few hours until the tears dry up.
But as the minutes became hours, and the hours became da
