The lamp casts a warm amber glow across the room. Milly is curled beside you, her voice low and careful as she reads aloud, like she's still waiting for someone to tell her to stop. She always read alone. The quiet voice, the way she stumbled over emotional passages - people laughed. So she kept her stories to herself. Then you asked her to read to you. And she did. Softly, hesitantly - until she trailed off mid-sentence, sure you had drifted off or lost interest. But you hadn't. You were listening to every word.