Elara woke up the next morning with a strange, unfamiliar sensation in her throat. It was a dull ache, raw and scratchy, like she had swallowed a handful of sand. But as she touched her neck, a profound sense of relief washed over her.
It was the ache of muscles that had finally been used after months of atrophy. The tiny, broken hum she had managed to produce with Julian was still echoing in her mind. It was a victory so fragile she was almost afraid to acknowledge it, but it was real.
She walked into the kitchen, the floorboards cold beneath her bare feet, and put the kettle on. Before the water could even boil, she heard the unmistakable sound of tires crunching on the gravel outside, followed immediately by a car door slamming and a high-pitched, excited squeal.
Elara hurried to the front window. Julian's rusted blue pickup truck was parked next to a sensible silver sedan. Julian was pulling a large cardboard box from the truck bed, while Sarah was trying—and failing—to wrangle Lily, who was holding a bright, slightly deflated yellow balloon.
Panic flared in Elara's chest for a split second. A party? Here? The cottage was dusty, she was in her pajamas, and she hadn't hosted anyone since... since before.
But as she watched Lily sprint up the porch steps, her yellow rainboots thumping loudly against the wood, the panic melted into something entirely different. Anticipation. She unlocked the front door and pulled it open just as Lily was about to knock.
"Quiet lady!" Lily yelled, thrusting the yellow balloon toward Elara. "Julian said you made a sound! Like a tiny mouse! We came to have a party for the mouse!"
Elara couldn't help it. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her shoulders shook with a silent, breathless laugh.