Morning came softly, like warm light brushing gently through the curtains of Elena’s room. The brightness rested on her face, warming her eyelids until she finally blinked them open. For a moment, she lay still, breathing in the quiet of the house. It was peaceful—too peaceful, almost unsettling in its stillness. No sound of mixing bowls. No scent of fresh dough rising. No humming from the bakery downstairs.

Just silence.

And then the realization washed over her…

She wasn’t going to be ...