I’ve spent the last few days with Lara, Daisy, and Chloe. Ever since we brought Lara back, I’ve been glued to her side. I couldn’t help it—something about seeing her lying there, fragile yet alive, pulled at a part of me I didn’t even know existed. The guilt. The gratitude. The quiet need to make sure she never hurt again. We made sure she was okay, that she didn’t feel left out. Daisy brought her warm tea every morning, Chloe cracked her silly jokes that actually made her laugh once or twice, and me? I just stayed close. Sometimes I’d just sit in silence beside her, watching her breathe, letting her know she wasn’t alone anymore. Sometimes, though, I did feel like I was doing too much. Hovering. Watching her every move. She’d just gone through something traumatic, and I didn’t want my constant presence to feel suffocating, so I tried—really tried—to ease off. I’d sit by the window, pretending to read, but my eyes always trailed back to her. Alex placed Freya in charge of the
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