Senna noticed first.
Not because Willow said anything. Not because she asked for help. But because Willow stopped laughing.
It wasn’t sudden. It was subtle. A missed smile. A delayed response. A stare that lingered too long at nothing. Senna had known Willow through the worst of her pregnancy, through cravings and mood swings and fierce protectiveness.
This was different. This wasn’t temper. This wasn’t exhaustion. This was absence.
Rose noticed next.
Willow forgot to eat. Forgot to brush her hair.
Once, Rose found her standing over the twins’ bassinets with tears silently streaming down her face.
“They’re perfect,” Willow had whispered, voice trembling. “They deserve a better mother.”
That sentence had sent a chill straight through Rose’s bones. They tried. Of course they tried.
