The trust didn’t settle all at once.
It came in fragments—quiet, almost imperceptible moments that stacked themselves gently inside my chest until I realized there was no room left for doubt the way there used to be. I felt it the next morning when I woke without that familiar spike of anxiety, without the instinctive need to catalog exits and possibilities before I even opened my eyes. Sunlight filtered through the curtains again, soft and unhurried, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself stay still.
I didn’t rush out of bed.
I stretched, slow and lazy, listening to the distant sounds of the mansion waking up—footsteps in the hall, muted voices, the faint clink of dishes somewhere below. Normal sounds. Ordinary sounds. Sounds that didn’t carry threat or urgency.
I showere
