The diary sits open on my lap.Blank page. Pen uncapped. The particular pressure of documenting something that's supposed to matter.I've been staring at it for ten minutes.Adrian's voice carries from the kitchen—patient repetition of pancake instructions Ava already knows but pretends not to. Her giggle punctuates his fake exasperation.Mrs. Patel's murmur underneath. The Sunday morning symphony of people who've learned to move around each other.My phone buzzes. Sofia: 'Brunch at 11? Daniel wants to show you the wedding venue options. He's narrowed it down to 47 choices.'Me: 'That's not narrow.'Sofia: 'I'm aware. Please come save me from looking at 47 identical ballrooms.'Me: 'Adrian's making pancakes. We'll be there by noon.'Sofia: 'Bless him. Bring Ava. She can judge the venues with more sense than Daniel.'I set down the phone. Return to the blank page.The entries before this one document survival. Each page a record of making it through—Ava's first words, the company nearl
Last Updated : 2025-12-01 Read more