Isabelle came downstairs around 11.
No good morning. No eye contact. Just a quiet teenage shuffle into the kitchen.
I asked her for a hug. She looked at me like I’d just asked her to clean the gutters.
But then—she gave me a side hug.
Just a quick one. Not dramatic. Not warm.
But it counted.
I’ll take it.
Honestly, it might be the only hug I get today.
And I’m okay with that.
This is how closeness looks right now. And that’s enough.
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