It was a quiet Saturday morning in the suburbs. Lisa stood barefoot in the kitchen, her fingers curled around a warm mug of coffee. Through the open sliding door, sunlight spilled across the garden, illuminating the daisies swaying gently in the breeze. The scene felt almost too perfect.
Coco, her small white puppy, tugged playfully at the tasseled edge of the curtain, then bounded outside with a gleeful bark. Lisa followed her with her eyes, a soft smile on her face. After all she’d endured, moments like this felt precious—fragile, even.