The morning light spilled into the living room, soft and unassuming, but it could not touch the storm inside me. Marga was on the floor, building a tower of blocks with a seriousness that made me smile despite myself. Her laughter, pure and unrestrained, should have been comforting, but today it felt like a reminder of everything I had to protect—not just her, but her heart, my heart, and the fragile balance we had built.

Ezekiel was here, quietly observing, his eyes never leaving Marga. ...