Millie
The house felt like it was holding its breath. The air, already thick with the quiet anxiety of her father's condition, grew heavier with every passing minute. Lily remained at his side, her hand still gently resting in his. Daniel had quietly excused himself, knowing this moment was hers, something she needed to face alone. The hours blurred by in a slow, heart-wrenching march toward something neither Lily nor her mother could predict.
But then, just as the sun dipped low in the sky, a car pulled up to the driveway. The sound of tires crunching over the gravel reached them before the front door opened with a slow creak. Lily didn't move, her eyes fixed on the man she loved—her father, barely conscious, barely aware.
Then came the knock at the door.
Her mother, always one to keep things tightly wound, moved to answer it with an air of forced calm. She paused before opening it, as though steeling herself for the impact of something that had been waiting for years.
