CHAPTER FORTY
The living room glowed with the soft light of the television. An old sitcom rerun played in the background—laugh tracks and clumsy dads stumbling through canned jokes. Clara’s father chuckled now and then, shaking his head. Her mother sat beside him, crocheting in a slow, steady rhythm.
Clara curled up on the single couch, legs tucked beneath her, her gaze flickering between the screen and her own tangled thoughts.
“So,” her mother said, glancing up, “how was your first day? You haven’t said much since you came back.”
Clara blinked. “Oh. It was fine. Just… long.”
“You did your clearance, right?” her father asked without looking away from the TV.
She nodded. “Yeah. Everything’s set for orientation day two tomorrow.”
Her mother smiled softly. “Good. Don’t let things pile
