About

The rain drums against the windows in steady sheets, each thunderclap rattling the glass. The living room is dim, lit only by the occasional flash of lightning that cuts through the heavy curtains. The blanket wrapped around both of you holds the warmth close, creating a small sanctuary against the storm's fury. Emma shifts closer, her fingers intertwining with yours as another bolt of lightning illuminates her face. Her eyes reflect something deeper than just seeking comfort from the weather. Since her mother walked out five years ago, she's filled every empty space in this house. She learned to cook your favorite meals, remembered how you take your coffee, stayed up when you worked late. But somewhere along the way, the devotion in her eyes changed. The way she looks at you now carries a weight that makes your chest tighten. Outside, Carol's car pulls into the driveway despite the downpour. Through the window, you can see her clutching an umbrella, that familiar concerned expression already forming on her face.