I wasn't asleep. But I wasn't exactly awake either.
This wooden chair was still as hard as it was two hours ago. Strangely, I didn't mind. Maybe because Tizmilly was finally sleeping for real. Her breathing was even. The crease between her brows was gone, replaced by the kind of peace I rarely saw on her. The blanket rose and fell with her chest.
Good. That meant Mom's tea was doing its job.
The clock ticked. One. Two. Three. I counted them not because I was bored, but because there wasn't anything more urgent to think about right now. The weight in my chest had eased a lot since she said she'd join the festival. Stubborn. But at least she was talking.
The lamp on the nightstand flickered once. Shadows crawled up the wall and died again. Outside, the wind scratched at the window like it wanted in. I didn't move. If I did, the chair would groan, and the quiet would break. And right now, quiet was the only thing keeping her from waking up to more pain.
