Rationally, nothing stood obviously wrong. Charles seemed devoted to Mabel, safe in his care. Lauren told herself it was family dynamics, nothing more—a nephew doing right by his aunt. The cottage felt warm, ordinary, the storm a fading memory outside.
Yet her body tightened, shoulders drawing in, a familiar knot low in her chest. She noticed Charles answering for Mabel, finishing her half-sentences with gentle certainty. “She means the garden back home,” he’d say when Mabel paused. Lauren’s unease deepened, quiet but persistent.