Rain lashed against the windowpanes, blurring the world outside into a watercolor mess. Inside, she sat huddled on the couch, a knitted shawl wrapped tightly around her like a shield. The stew on the stove bubbled forgotten, its scent a cloying counterpoint to the growing worry in her gut. He was always late, but never this late. With each tick of the clock, the silence in the room pressed down on her heavier, punctuated only by the drumming rain and the frantic thump of her own heart.