Daphne’s POV

Christian hadn’t let go of me since we got home. His little fists clung to my blouse like if he blinked, I’d vanish.

I didn’t blame him,I didn’t want to let go either.

The apartment was too quiet. No cartoons humming in the background, no laughter, no warmth.

Just the scrape of his toy car over the coffee table. He wasn’t playing.

Just moving it back and forth, his eyes glassy, like the world had taken too much from him in one night.

I stroked his hair, whispering ...