Darcie
When I wake in the morning, Margot is already moving about the room. Even though my eyes are covered, she knows that I’m awake.
“Good morning, Darcie!”
A soft laugh escapes me despite the sting of tiredness. I marvel at Margot’s unwavering cheer, even though guilt tugs at my chest for waking her in the night. Her energy makes me feel both lighter and surprisingly cared for.
“Good morning, Margot,” I say. “You’re up early.”
She chuckles. “I’ve always been an early riser. It doesn’t matter what time I go to bed, I’m always up by five.”
“What time is it now?” I ask.
“A little after seven.” Okay, so not too late. “You have therapy in two hours. I’ve prepared a bath for you, and once you’re dressed, I’ll take you down to breakfast. Is that okay?”
Relief loosens my shoulders. I’m
