Beverly's POV

My mother's apartment was small but comforting in ways our spacious house had stopped being weeks ago. The familiar scent of her lavender candles and the worn furniture I had grown up with made something tight in my chest finally loosen just slightly.

Mom did not ask questions when we arrived, she made chamomile tea and held Emma while I showered for the first time in three days. The hot water felt foreign against my skin, like I had forgotten my body was something that deserved ...