Chapter 7
Maybe for a child, sometimes it is.
I turned off the lamp and stood in the doorway for a second, watching her settle.
No flinch.
No folded shoulders.
No eyes fixed on the carpet.
Just my daughter, finally letting sleep find her without fear.
Down the hall, my old suitcase was still scuffed from that trip.
I kept it longer than I needed to after that.
Every time I saw it, I remembered the moment everything split in two: the version of our life that had looked perfect from the curb, and the truth I found behind a half-open bedroom door.
May you like
One of those things was fragile enough to shatter.
The other was my daughter, and she didn’t.
