After Dad returned from the hospital, we spent the next month helping him settle back in, a month filled with the careful routines of recovery. He and Talia had a downstairs bedroom, thankfully sparing him the stairs. I kept a distance from Talia, but a cautious unease still lingered, a constant reminder of the threat that hadn't disappeared. Slowly and cautiously, I began to feel more at ease in the house, but the quiet wariness remained, the threat unseen but palpable, clinging to me like a shadow. The house felt less like a home and more like a place I was carefully navigating.
I spoke with Nickolas every day, and we'd begun seeing each other casually—a tentative exploration, nothing serious, of course; I'm only fifteen, sixteen in a few months. It felt good to have that connection, a
