Amelia’s POV
It has been a few days since the incident with Elsa on the stairs. I have been more awake lately, not letting her close to me. The morning sunlight spills across the living room, warm and golden, brushing the edges of the furniture and spilling over the scattered toys the triplets have abandoned in their latest game of chaos. I lean against the counter, my fingers brushing absentmindedly over the smooth surface, as if the warmth of the wood could steady the nerves coiling tightly in my chest. Ryan is in the living room, keeping the triplets entertained, his patience and easy humour filling the space, and I watch him for a long moment, the comforting familiarity of his presence grounding me even as my mind spins with possibilities.
I take a slow breath, letting it out with qu
