The morning light fell gently across Alliah’s bedroom, seeping through her cream‑colored curtains in thin golden threads. It touched the curve of her cheek and lingered there. She lay in bed a moment longer, breathing slowly, as though drawing strength from the morning itself. The past weeks had been heavy—filled with pain, uncertainty, and the quiet ache of healing. Yet now there was something different. Not complete peace, but a fragile kind of hope that felt like the first stirrings of spring.
From the other room came the faint sound of Joshua’s laughter. He was sitting cross‑legged on the floor, playing with building blocks beside a quiet hum of music coming from Apple’s phone. Alliah smiled softly. Even the simplest sound—the laughter of her child—had become for her a reminder that l
