The house was so still I could hear the ticking of the hallway clock. Each sound felt louder than it should have, like the world itself was warning us not to move.
I stood in Nova’s doorway, watching her small body curled up beneath the blanket. Her little rabbit toy was tucked under her chin, ears frayed from love. I leaned against the frame for longer than I should’ve, memorizing her, willing myself to believe she’d still be safe when we came back.
Noah appeared behind me, his jacket zipped, the envelope with the map and photo tucked inside. His hand brushed mine, a silent reminder, time to go.
I bent down, pressing a soft kiss to Nova’s forehead. She stirred, murmured something in her sleep, and settled again. My chest ached so sharply it felt like it might split open.
“Let’s move,”
