I had clung to the belief that surviving such a calamity would herald a turn of fate, where our trio, having weathered the storm, would bask in the joy of simply being together.
Yet, a week later, our home was engulfed in flames.
As the inferno intensified, the heat reached a critical point, igniting the gas tank tucked away in our home.
By the time someone managed to alert the firefighters, who arrived to douse the raging flames, it was already too late. Mitchell and Poppy, trapped within the inferno, had succumbed to the fire's merciless embrace.
"Quinn, where did your thoughts wander off to? You seem lost in your own world."
"It's nothing. I just realized that three years have passed in the blink of an eye, and our daughter has grown so much," I replied, shaking off the shadow of my past.
I reached out to gently touch Poppy's head, but she recoiled, ducking away from my touch. Her eyes, filled with an unfamiliar distance, told me she no longer found comfort in my closeness.
"Quinn, I've been the one taking care of Poppy these past three years. It's only natural she's a bit distant. Give her time," Mitchell comforted me.