Without another word, Michael turned sharply and marched toward the stairs, his mother and sister following closely behind him in a hurried, undignified rush.

I sat alone at the head of the table, listening to the distant sounds of doors opening and closing in the west wing. Arthur walked over to my side, placing a gentle hand on my uninjured shoulder. He asked if I needed him to call for a medical assistant or additional support for the evening.

I looked up at him and smiled, feeling the immense weight of the past six months finally lift from the room. I thanked him and said that I would be perfectly fine. For the first time in a very long time, I finally had my home back.