I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The small living room was just as we had left it, with the worn sofa and the fading wallpaper.

But the fear of the mailbox was gone.

There would be no red notices tomorrow.

Ruby went to her small bedroom and returned with the plastic piggy bank.

She set it on the kitchen table.

“We don’t have to count the pennies anymore, Mom?” she asked.

“No, sweetie,” I said, pulling her close.

“We don’t have to worry anymore.”

I looked out the window at the city lights.

The rain was stopping, leaving the streets shining beneath the streetlamps.

For twelve years, I had lived in the shadows of a name I wanted to forget.

Now, that name was written on the deed of the place we called home.

We were safe.

I tucked Ruby into her bed and kissed her forehead.

Her eyes closed, her breathing becoming slow and even.

I sat at the small kitchen table, the legal documents spread out before me.

The signatures were dry.

The seal of the city was firm.

I closed my eyes and listened to the quiet of the night, finally at peace.