CLAIRE
Then Chloe let out a cry.
A sharp, singular sound echoed from behind her closed door. It wasn't a scream like before, but rather a whimper, the sort that children emit when a dream shifts, the ground tilts, and they yearn for a familiar voice to help them settle back down. We both stood still. His hand fell away. The spell, or whatever it was, whatever invisible barrier had been forming between us on this hallway floor for the last hour, shattered like glass striking marble.
Eros was the first to spring to his feet. It was instinct, muscle memory, the ingrained reaction of a man who had trained for three years to reach his daughter's door in under four seconds. He was inside her room before I even registered the transition from sitting to standing.
I could hear his voice throu
