Evelyn sat on the wooden bench near the porch railing, a warm mug of chamomile tea resting between her hands. The deep purple bruising around her cheekbone had faded entirely, leaving behind nothing more than a faint, barely visible mark that served as the final relic of a nightmare now firmly behind her. For the first time in nearly two years, her shoulders were completely relaxed. The constant, hyper-vigilant knot in her chest had finally dissolved, replaced by a quiet, unshakeable sense of safety.
Beside her, Eleanor set down a tray of freshly baked lemon bars and sat back in her chair. Her eyes lingered on her daughter for a moment, taking in the genuine, unburdened smile on Evelyn’s face as she watched the family’s retriever chase a tennis ball across the grass.
“You look like yourself again,” Eleanor said softly, resting a warm hand on Evelyn’s wrist.
