The house was quiet again.

  Not the peaceful kind—

  the kind that waited.

  Harlyn sat by the window with her book closed on her lap,

  watching the sky darken inch by inch.

  The candle beside her burned steadily. She hadn’t lit it because it was dark yet. She lit it because it felt wrong not to.

  Dinner had gone cold.

  ***

  The key didn’t turn until much later.

  Harlyn was already half-asleep when she heard it—the soft scrape of metal, slower than usual.

  She sprang up.

  “M—Mom?”

  The door opened.

  Meryl stepped inside, shoulders slumped, her smile arriving a heartbeat too late.

  “I’m home,” she said lightly.

  Harlyn ran to her, stopping just short of colliding into her legs.

  Up close, her mother smelled unfamiliar—not bad, just… different.

  Meryl swayed slightly as she took off her shoes.

  “I saved you dinner,” Harlyn said quickly.

  Meryl blinked. “You did?”

  She laughed softly, rubbing her temple. “You didn’t have to...”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Harlyn didn’t answer. She was already reaching for water.

  ***

  They sat together at the table, but Meryl barely ate.

  She pushed food around with her spoon, eyes unfocused, then suddenly laughed.

  “Did I ever tell you,” she said, “how stubborn your father was?”

  Harlyn smiled shyly.

  Meryl laughed again—then stopped, pressing a hand to her forehead.

  “…Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m just tired.”

  Harlyn watched her carefully in silence.

  ***

  Later, Harlyn lay awake in bed.

  The house creaked. The candle guttered out.

  From the other room came the sound of coughing—short, restrained, as if someone didn’t want to be heard.

  Harlyn sat up.

  She waited.

  The sound stopped.

  She lay back down, pulling the blanket up to her chin, staring at the ceiling in endless dark void until her eyes burned.

  ***

  The next night, Meryl came home even later.

  She didn’t take off her coat, she didn’t stop at the dining table.

  She sat on the edge of her bed instead, breathing slowly, eyes closed.

  Bruises were visible on her face, and her hands were shaking.

  “Harlyn,” she said after a while, voice gentle. “If Mommy falls asleep early tonight… that’s okay, right?”

  Harlyn quickly nodded.

  “I can be quiet,” she said. “I’ll finish the food for you mom!”

  Meryl smiled and reached out, brushing her fingers through Harlyn’s hair — her hand trembled, just a little.

  “I’ll rest tomorrow,” she promised.

  Harlyn held onto that sentence like it was something solid.

  ***

  That night, Harlyn didn’t sleep.

  She counted her mother’s breaths through the wall.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  …

  She didn’t know when she finally drifted off.