Dominic called eleven times. I watched the screen flare to life from across the room, phone on the windowsill so I could see it without touching it, and I counted every ring.I didn’t answer.Not to punish him. I just had nothing left to say that Sandra hadn’t already said cleaner and sharper. Answering would have cost me something I couldn’t afford to lose right now.Luca slept through all eleven calls.That kept pulling at me — how deeply, how trustingly he slept in the unfamiliar room, in the travel cot tucked in the corner. A space with no ghosts, no weight, no expectations. Just four walls and us.I lay on my back staring at a ceiling that felt lower, closer, than the one I’d stared at for two years. The kind of ceiling that didn’t demand anything from me.Then I slept, real sleep, for the first time in months.Morning arrived quieter here. Luca woke at six-thirty with his usual escalating commentary — not crying, just insistent little sounds from someone who had opinions and
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