Ivy POV

The morning began with bread cooling on the table and Rick counting the cracks in the stone floor. The house felt quiet in a way I used to love. I watched him from the doorway as he sat cross-legged, tapping each line with care.

“Twenty-seven,” he said. “There are twenty-seven today.”

“Yesterday there were twenty-six,” I replied, trying to sound light.

He looked up at me, eyes too focused for a child his age. “The ground shifted last night.”

I froze, then forced myself ...