HELENA POV
My room felt too small for everything I was carrying.
I closed the door quietly behind me and leaned my forehead against it, pressing just hard enough to feel something solid under my skin. The house was alive downstairs — Trish’s voice sharp and affectionate as she herded the twins, the clatter of dishes, Silas’s low voice drifting up from the kitchen where he had somehow taken over cooking lunch like he’d always belonged there — but I needed a moment where none of it could touch me.
Because if I didn’t stop moving, if I didn’t stop pretending I had this under control, I was going to break in a way I wouldn’t be able to put back together.
I crossed the room slowly and sat on the edge of my bed, elbows braced on my knees, staring down at the floorboards like they might give
