Marian and Katherine were sprawled across the couch, shoes kicked off, legs tangled in mismatched socks and throw pillows, half-empty coffee cups forgotten on the table. The late afternoon light filtered through the window, soft and golden, casting long shadows that made everything feel quieter, slower—like the world had decided to give them a pause.
They were in the middle of discussing their girls’ day out for the coming weekend—brunch spots, maybe a manicure, possibly a spontaneous road trip if Marian felt brave enough—when Marian’s phone buzzed against the coffee table.
She didn’t even look at the screen at first.
But her body reacted before her mind could catch up.
Her breath hitched. Her heart skipped—not dramatically, not loudly, but enough for her to feel it echo in her chest.
