Ayla’s POV
The house was quiet. Too quiet. Not peaceful…never that…just strange. The kind of silence that pressed in on you, like it was waiting for something to break.
Mom’s cough had eased a little. She could sit up longer now, even move around the house in short bursts, but nothing about her had softened. Her sharp words were still knives, and I was still the target she liked throwing them at.
I sat at the table, watching Rowan unpack the grocery bags he’d carried in like it was nothing. Big hands moving with that calm patience that always made me feel like he was hiding the storm underneath. His jaw worked tight whenever Mom muttered from the couch.
“Soup again?” she scoffed when I set the bowl in front of her. “You trying to bore me to death?”
I forced a smile that didn’t reach m
