[Rosie's POV]
Oddly enough, I never told him how much his silence meant, how his steady gaze kept me from falling apart.
"—and then he told me we could rewrite the whole narrative," I finished, breathless, waiting for his reaction.
He gave a soft chuckle, the sound warm and unexpected. "Sounds like you've got a lot on your plate, Rosie. But you always find a way to turn chaos into something… manageable."
Before I could answer, a soft creak sounded from the stairs below.
My eyes snapped down, and there she was—a young girl, maybe sixteen, with a cascade of dark curls and a shy smile.
She was holding a small backpack, the kind you'd see on a schoolkid's shoulder.
She darted her gaze on Harry who's face brightened the more at the sight of her.
Then she returned that look to me, which gave me chills and then she smiled.
"Hey, Rosie," she called, her voice bright but tinged with a nervous edge.
