LILY
I’m halfway down the stairs when Alice’s voice drifts after me.
“Lily?”
“I’m here,” I call back softly. “I’m just getting you something to eat.”
She hums in response, the sound small but trusting, and it steadies me as I reach the bottom step. The house is quieter than usual at this hour, too quiet. Even my footsteps sound intrusive against the polished floor.
The kitchen lights are already on.
That makes me pause.
I’m sure I turned them off earlier.
I push the unease aside and head in anyway, opening the pantry and crouching down to scan the lower shelves where Alice’s things are kept. Crackers. Dried fruit. The little applesauce pouches she likes even though she insists she’s “not a baby.”
I grab two options, just in case.
That’s when the front door opens, followed by the
