saying without saying it: I came.
“No,” Nora said. “Leave it until the new owners decide.”
Mara smiled faintly. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
Nora walked to the lowest drawer and pressed the place where the button had been. The system was disconnected now. Nothing lit up. Nothing broadcast.
She did not need it to.
Outside, workers were carrying boxes down the steps. The sky was bright after rain, the city washed clean in patches. Nora stepped out of the kitchen and into the hall where gala guests had once praised her husband’s kindness.
At the front door, she paused.
Mara waited beside her.
“Where to?” her sister asked.
Nora looked down at her gloved hand. It would scar. The doctors had been honest about that. Some mornings it would ache. Some nights she would still wake reaching for danger that was no longer there.
But the hand was hers.
Her voice was hers.
The door was open.
“Home,” Nora said.
And this time, she meant a place no one else could turn into a cage.
