The next morning didn’t rise with the same softness, but it still carried a kind of quiet that let me breathe before the day demanded too much. I woke to sunlight filtering through the curtains, brushing lightly across my skin, warm but not overwhelming. Marga was still asleep beside me, her small hand curled over her unicorn, her breathing soft and even.

For a moment, I stayed still.

Just letting peace settle.

No rush.

No noise.

No memories clawing at me.

Just the gentle truth that I ...