Harper nodded while clutching a stuffed fox missing one worn ear.
The moment the front door closed, the entire house seemed to exhale.
The tension that constantly tightened every room whenever Clara was home disappeared so completely it almost felt physical.
“Cereal?” I asked.
“Whatever you’re having,” Harper answered softly.
We sat together at the marble kitchen island while sunlight spilled across the counter. She kept glancing at me cautiously over the edge of her cereal bowl.
“I heard there’s a new animated movie streaming,” I said casually. “Want to waste a few hours and completely rot our brains?”
For the first time since meeting her, Harper smiled genuinely.
“Mom says TV makes your thoughts weak. But… okay.”
We spent the morning curled on the sofa beneath a knitted blanket. Gradually, Harper relaxed. She laughed. Asked questions. Told me the fox’s name was Scout. For a few precious hours, she became simply a seven-year-old child again, and I allowed myself to believe the family Clara promised might still become real.
