At first there was only silence, followed by the muffled sound of movement, then the unmistakable cry of an infant. The door opened slowly, revealing a man she barely recognized.
Thomas Bell stood before her with hollow eyes and unshaven cheeks, holding a baby against his chest while a small boy clung to his leg. His shirt was worn thin, and exhaustion clung to him like a second skin.
It took him several seconds to understand who stood in front of him.
“Ms. Corwin,” he said quietly, his voice strained with surprise and something close to fear.
Madeline felt something shift, though she could not yet name it.
“May I come in,” she asked, her tone softer than she intended.
He hesitated, then stepped aside.
The apartment was small, but not chaotic. Furniture was old but clean. A sofa with frayed edges sat beside a low table stacked with unpaid bills, medical pamphlets, and school papers marked with careful handwriting. A crib stood in the corner, assembled from mismatched wood pieces that had been sanded by hand.
Madeline walked slowly, suddenly aware of the sound of her shoes against the floor.
“I am sorry,” Thomas said. “I did not expect visitors.”