The sun broke through the clouds at six in the morning. It was a sharp, sudden light that cut through the curtains of the bedroom, illuminating the dust motes that had settled overnight. I woke up before the alarm, my internal clock set to the rhythm of crisis. For a moment, I lay still, listening. The house was quiet. No rain tapping against the glass. No sirens in the distance. Just the hum of the heating system and the distant sound of a bird singing in the garden.
Marcus was asleep beside me. His arm was thrown over his eyes to block the light. He looked peaceful. The tension that had been carved into his face for months had softened. I slipped out of bed carefully. I didn't want to wake him. He needed the rest. I needed the silence.
I went downstairs. The kitchen was cold. The tiles
