Cassie’s POV
_Monday. 30 Days.
But today, we weren’t writing to reach.
We were writing to remember._
I woke up counting.
30 days.
Since 4B.
Since fear.
Since him.
“Dante,” I whispered.
He was already awake. Staring at the ceiling.
“30 days,” he said.
“30 days,” I said.
On the floor, Mimi sat up in her sleeping bag.
“30 Days!” she announced.
“Yes, anak,” I said.
“Party Day!”
Dante smiled. “Yes. Party Day.”
Kitchen. Our kitchen.
We made pancakes. 30 of them. One for each day.
“Daddy,” Mimi said, looking at the stack. “We can’t eat 30.”
“We’ll try,” I said.
We ate 10. Laughing. With syrup on Mimi’s cheek and coffee in our mugs.
For the first time, food wasn’t survival. It was celebration.
My phone buzzed.
Dreame: `30-Day Mileston
