I woke up rather early that morning.

It was the day we had all been looking forward to, or rather, the Wellingtons in particular.

The clock read five o’clock in the morning when my eyes opened, my body alert before my mind had fully caught up. Sleep had been shallow, fragmented by half dreams and restless thoughts that refused to settle. I lay still for a moment, listening to the quiet hum of the house. No voices. No footsteps. Just the faint, reassuring rhythm of a home waking slowly.

I ...