That evening, Gwen prepared the guest room—fresh sheets, clean towel, no fuss. She moved quietly through the motions, still trying to process the sudden shift in their dynamic. As she turned off the light and closed the door behind her, she wasn’t sure what was to come next.
The next morning, Gwen expected the usual distance. Instead, Elizabeth was already downstairs, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. She didn’t say much—just nodded when Gwen entered and slid the sugar bowl toward her. Gwen murmured thanks and sat across from her, unsure what to say.