The house was quiet when she pushed the door open. Too quiet. That kind of stillness that settles only when babies are asleep and the world outside feels far away.
She slipped inside, letting the door fall shut gently behind her. Darkness pooled in the hallway, soft and blurry.
Her own reflection in the mirror by the shoe rack startled her—eyes swollen, mascara smudged, shoulders pulled too tight. She hadn’t realized she looked like this.
Mrs. Grace appeared from the living room, wiping her hands on a small towel.
“Oh, sweetheart. You’re home.”
Something in the older woman’s voice—warm, steady, knowing—made her throat lock instantly.
She forced a smile. “Yeah. Long day.”
Mrs. Grace didn’t buy it. She never did. She just stepped closer, brows knitting as she looked her over, really
