Harmony woke to the soft gray light of morning filtering through her curtains, the house quiet except for the faint hum of the early day. For a few seconds, she lingered in the fragile space between sleep and full awareness, letting her thoughts settle—or try to.
Then reality crept in, uninvited. Peyton. The truck. Last night. Her chest tightened as her mind replayed the images she couldn’t unsee, and for a moment she felt the weight of it all pressing down.
She rose slowly, moving through the motions that grounded her—the cool floor beneath her feet, the tying of her robe around her, the familiar path into the kitchen. Coffee grounds measured, water poured, the soft hiss of the brewing machine filling the silence.
Normal. Controlled. Something she could hold onto.
She poured herself a
