That night, after dinner, after the drawing, after Selena’s questions settled quietly into corners of my mind where I could not ignore them, the house finally began to slow down. The children grew drowsy earlier than usual, exhaustion still clinging to their small bodies after everything that had happened in the past two days. Kane yawned repeatedly, trying to hide it behind his palm as if admitting tiredness meant admitting weakness. Selena leaned against me on the couch, her head resting heavily against my shoulder, her fingers still clutching the edge of my shirt like she had done all day.I didn’t rush them to bed.I let them stay there, leaning against me, breathing slowly, allowing their bodies to find calm on their own terms. There was a time when bedtime was routine—brush teeth, change clothes, crawl into bed, lights off. Now bedtime had become something gentler, something slower, something that required reassurance rather than instruction.“You’re sleepy,” I murmured softly,
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