Eugene's POV
Walking out of Flora’s room at six in the morning was the first time in months I didn't feel like the walls were closing in on me. The air in the corridor felt lighter. My chest felt clear. I crossed back over to my master suite, showered, and got dressed for the day with a strange, unfamiliar calmness settling into my gut.
Downstairs, the kitchen was quiet. I was pouring myself a cup of black coffee when Emily shuffled in, her hair a messy bird's nest, yawning loudly. She stopped, blinking at me through her sleepy eyes, then frowned.
"What?" I asked, taking a sip.
"Nothing," Emily muttered, leaning against the counter to reach for the cereal. "You just... look different today, Dad. You're usually glaring at your phone like you want to murder the stock market by this time
