The next morning arrived quietly, like the world was trying to tiptoe around the heaviness I had carried to bed the night before. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Marga curled beside me on the sofa, her small face pressed against my arm and her lashes resting softly against her cheeks. She must’ve crawled into my side sometime after midnight, sensing something in me the way only children can.

I brushed my fingers through her hair, letting the simple act calm me. It grounded ...