"Okay, Dad. Good night," Zara said, ending the call.
She knew better than to ignore her parents' calls. If she did, they'd be at her gate before dawn, crashing into the fragile peace she'd been holding on to.
She stared blankly at the TV where her kids' favorite cartoon played. Tomorrow was another weekday, and again, there was nothing to prepare for—, no work, no school runs, no packed lunches, no noise.
But she didn't cry. The tears had already dried up days ago.
Minutes passed as she sat still, watching the cartoon but barely following the storyline. Her mind was somewhere else— until a spark lit up.
Without realizing, she grabbed her iPad and started sketching.
"Goddamn," she mumbled, a rare smile pulling at her lips. "This is actually good."
