The sharp, rhythmic click of Chloe’s heels echoed softly through the hospice lobby as she pushed open the glass door. The familiar scent of antiseptic and faint lavender, a fragrance that had become as comforting as it was clinical. This place had been her second home for months, but today, she wasn’t here to visit. She was here to start closing this chapter.

The receptionist, a warm-hearted woman with kind, knowing eyes, glanced up with a welcoming smile.

“Miss Hartley,” she said ...