Willow woke the next morning with the new phone singing a bird chirping alarm on the nightstand beside her. She stared at it for a long time before moving. It felt absurd—that something so small could represent something so enormous. A new number. A new life. A severed past delivered on a sliver of plastic.
She pushed herself upright slowly. Her body felt heavy in some places, hollow in others. The nausea hovered just beneath her ribs—not enough to knock her down, but enough to remind her that every decision she made now affected more than just herself. She pressed a hand to her stomach, fingers splayed lightly, not affectionate yet, just acknowledging. The quiet was thick, almost protective. She let it hold her for a little longer.
