Clara froze, her heart stuttering in her chest. She forced a smile, nodding carefully. “Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you need to feel whole.” But inside, fear dug its claws deep. The small box arrived in the mail a week later, its cheery branding and neat instructions mocking the weight it carried.
Emily tore the seal open at the kitchen counter, eyes shining with anticipation. Clara stood nearby, hands knotted in her apron, forcing her face into a mask of calm. “Want to help me, Mom?” Emily asked brightly, holding up the slim cotton swabs as though they were harmless toys.