At Midnight, My Boss Knocked on My Door in Tears—While I Held the Order to Destroy Her

the familiar ritual grounding me. The kettle hissed. Mugs clinked softly. At the table, my daughter explained—very seriously—the correct number of marshmallows one must add for optimal comfort. Aurora listened, nodding, hands wrapped around the mug like it was an anchor.

The shaking eased. Just a little.

When my daughter finally drifted back to sleep,continue reading …