The morning settled into something warm and ordinary, the kind of quiet that would have soothed me any other day. But today, even the simple sound of Elijah washing dishes felt like a reminder of everything I had to face. I stood at the foot of the staircase, listening to the faint, rhythmic shuffle of Marga’s feet as she moved around her room, humming to herself in that soft, airy way she always did when she woke up in a good mood.

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the steady thrum of my ...