Alice was sitting on the living room rug, surrounded by her scattered toys, while I tried to herd the chaos into some kind of order without stepping on tiny plastic blocks.
“Careful, Alice,” I said, lifting a toy from underfoot. “We don’t want any broken pieces before breakfast.”
She giggled, her small hands clapping together. “I didn’t break it, Lily!”
I smiled, ruffling her curls. Her laughter was always bright, pure, a tiny bubble of happiness that somehow made the house feel lighter. But even in that warmth, I could feel the tension that always lingered here when Ace was around. His presence had a way of threading through the air, sharp and controlled, like a silent warning.
I hadn’t seen him yet today, and I was secretly grateful for the calm.
Then the soft click of the front doo
