MIRA

I hear her footsteps before I see her. Nora, who never runs in the house. She's always been gentle, careful, the kind of child who apologizes before she knocks something over, but today she burst through my office door like a storm.

“Mom...” her voice cracks, and that alone freezes me.

I look up from the reports scattered on my desk. “Nora, slow down bug. What happened?”

Her chest rises and falls too fast, her hands tremble as she pushes her hair out of her face. She's older ...