I had seen a photo Karen posted online, complaining about the lack of space for her mother’s furniture.

I locked my phone and turned it face down.

Their drama was no longer my concern.

I looked down at Ivy’s peaceful, sleeping face.

Her tiny fingers were curled tightly around my thumb.

Outside, the first snow of the season began to fall, dusting the stone walls of our estate in pure white.

The house was warm, quiet, and completely ours.

I closed my eyes and rocked my daughter in the silent room.