Sunday night settled quietly over the Jackson house in Manchester.
The dinner dishes had already been cleared away, the faint smell of roasted vegetables and tea still lingering in the air. The house was calm now. Upstairs, Lexi had retreated to her room not long after dinner, music faintly humming through the floorboards above.
In the dining room downstairs, only two people remained.
Jane sat at the table with a blanket loosely draped over her shoulders. The fever that had kept her in bed for days had begun to fade, though the exhaustion still showed in the way she moved slowly and occasionally pressed her fingers to her temples. She looked better than she had earlier in the week, but she was still pale.
Across from her sat Roger.
For a while neither of them spoke.
Jane traced the rim of her mug with one finger before finally breaking the silence.
"You're being quiet."
Roger leaned back slightly in his chair, exhaling slowly.
"I went to see them," he said.
