I stepped out into the garden, letting the door fall shut behind me. The morning sun hadn’t fully warmed the air yet, so a soft chill wrapped around my arms. I didn’t mind it. The cold made it easier to feel grounded.
I walked toward the swing in the garden. The chains clicked quietly as I lowered myself onto it, brushing my palms over the wooden seat. I let the swing move gently under my weight, not enough to rock—just enough to feel something steady beneath me. The garden was still, quiet except for a few birds in the distant trees.
My thoughts hadn’t stopped circling since breakfast. School. My future. My past. The strange safety I felt around this family. All of it pulled at me in slow, uneven waves, like my brain was trying to sort itself out and couldn’t.
I didn’t know how long I
