Days passed with a rhythm that felt almost empty.

Eliana began to lose track of time. Hours melted into a lullaby of stillness—quiet mornings, warm soup at noon, and nights wrapped in hugs and sweet words from Shopia. The house was too comfortable, almost suffocating in its gentleness, making the girl slowly let go of her guard.

Once, Eliana had been sharp, full of questions. But now… she was quieter. More obedient. Too calm.

“Darling, why do you keep spacing out?” Shopia asked one afternoon as she gently brushed Eliana’s hair.

Eliana shrugged faintly. “I don’t know…”

“Still thinking about Mother Olivia?” Shopia’s voice was soft, yet carried an undertone...