That afternoon, Clara stepped onto the back patio and called her sister. Her voice was raw. “I think I’m losing it,” she whispered, rubbing her temples as Leo napped upstairs. “You’re not crazy,” Julia said gently. “You’re exhausted. You’re scared. There’s a difference. It’s okay to lose your footing.”
Clara sighed, brushing a hand through her hair. “I’m second-guessing everything. Every smile, every tone of voice, every sock that ends up in the wrong drawer. I even installed cameras.” There was a pause on the other end. Then Julia’s voice softened. “Clara…”