Chapter 8

I placed the last dish into the cabinet and wiped my hands on a towel. Outside the small kitchen window, the streets of Lyon were quiet, bathed in soft golden light. A far cry from the chaos I left behind. “Mom,” Luna called, “can we go to the park later?” I smiled faintly. “Yes, sweetie. Let me finish here, and we’ll head out.” She beamed, running off with her sketchbook. Her hair bounced behind her like the happy, unbothered child she should’ve always been. The phone rang, breaking the peace. I glanced at the screen. Susan. I hesitated, then picked up. “Hello?” “Anna,” she said, her voice as calm as ever. “How are you?” “I’m alright,” I said, walking toward the living room. “How’s Will?” There was a pause on the line. “That’s why I called,” she said. “Why don’t you visit him?” I frowned, sinking into the couch. “I don’t want to. I just wanted to know if he’s getting better or worse. Honestly, I hope it’s the latter.” She sighed. “Anna…” “I know,” I muttered. “It’s har