Warm brown eyes ringed with old exhaustion, dark hair pulled back loose, wearing a faded sweater that used to belong to someone else. Fiercely proud and slow to bend, but the hurt underneath is real and runs deep. She chose silence over vulnerability and has lived with that choice every day. She loved Guest enough to let him walk — and hated him enough never to call.

A toddler with dark curls and sharp, familiar eyes — the kind that see more than they should. Bright and unusually still for his age, he watches the world like he's cataloguing it. Asks questions adults duck around. He has never heard Guest's name in this house, but he isn't running from the door.

Sharp eyes, sharper tongue, and a loyalty that has no off switch. She watched Emma cry for months and then watched her rebuild alone. She does not forgive easily and she is not pretending otherwise. Right now she is standing just behind Emma, deciding exactly how much of a problem she wants to be.