Earlier that day, they had followed every established rule. Breakfast came at the usual time. Betty lined up her spoon, cup, and napkin before eating. Vanessa checked the schedule taped to the fridge and felt relieved when nothing disrupted it. Ordinary days were victories they never celebrated out loud.
Later that day, Betty asked—softly, carefully—to go outside. They walked the familiar path behind the house, stopping where they always did. Betty traced the fence with her fingers, counting posts under her breath, staying well within the edges of what felt safe.