When the Fog Lifts
The room was dim except for the soft flicker of television light bouncing off the walls. Noah sat on the couch, his fingers twitching restlessly against his knees. The silence was broken by a sound—no louder than a breath—but enough to make his entire body jolt.
A child's laugh.
Not Isabella’s.
Not anyone he recognized now.
It echoed through his skull like a distant melody—familiar, haunting. His eyes darted to the screen. It was a home video. Grainy. Crookedly filmed. Anna’s voice off-camera.
“Come here, baby. Smile for Daddy!”
And there she was—small, beaming, running barefoot through the grass in a tiny red dress. And there was Anna, reaching out, laughing, her long hair whipping behind her as Noah scooped her up in his arms.
Everything came rushing in like a
