Zoe POV

Noah doesn't ask if I'm sure. He just walks with me down the corridor to the room at the end, and stops when I stop, and waits.

My mother is sitting by the window.

That's the first thing I see — the posture, the way she's oriented toward the light without quite seeming to look at it, the quality of stillness that isn't rest. She is present in the room the way furniture is present: taking up space, not doing anything with it. I stand in the doorway and look at her ...