My phone's piercing ring shattered the moment. I pulled my hand back from Tristan's offered comfort and fumbled for my phone, wiping tears with my sleeve. The screen showed a number I didn't recognize.
"Hello?" My voice sounded raspy from crying.
"Mrs. Monroe? This is Margaret from Howling Clay Pottery Studio."
I struggled to place the name, then remembered—the children's pottery class Violet had attended.
"Your daughter's project is ready for pickup," Margaret continued cheerfully. "She worked so hard on it."
My breath caught. Violet had been working on something? The woman clearly didn't know my daughter was gone.
"I... thank you," I managed. "I'll come get it."
After hanging up, I stared blankly at the wall, fresh tears forming.
"Aurelia?" Tristan's gentle voice pulled me back. "What is it?"
"Violet made something at pottery class." My voice cracked. "Before she... It's ready now."
Understanding filled his eyes. "Would you like me to drive you?"
