Maura looked offended.
“I’m her mother.”
“And she is the mother of the children,” the woman said gently.
Elowen looked terrified.
I expected her to beg Maura to come with her.
She did not.
She handed the baby to me.
Then she followed the woman through the door alone.
My mother sat down as if the chair had betrayed her.
I held the baby and watched my sister disappear into the hallway.
Something shifted then.
Not enough to fix anything.
But enough for me to notice.
When Elowen came out forty minutes later, her eyes were red, but her voice was different.
“They have temporary housing for families,” she said. “Not fancy. Shared kitchen. Rules. Curfew.”
Sylas, who had finally reappeared smelling like smoke and convenience-store nachos, made a face.
“A curfew?”
Elowen looked at him.
“Yes.”
“I’m not living somewhere with a curfew like I’m twelve.”
