After a moment, he turned and left — no goodbye, no look back. The room felt larger after he was gone, like even the air didn’t know what to do with itself. When Maggie returned later, she found Clara sitting upright for the first time in days, her face pale but composed.
“Sweetheart,” Maggie whispered, “what happened?” Clara turned toward her mother, her voice steady but hollow. “He’s gone.” Maggie reached for her hand, eyes wet. “Then you’ve still got me.” Clara nodded slowly. “That’s all I need.”