Joanne slipped quietly into the barn that morning, the familiar scent of hay and the soft shuffling of hooves grounding her more than she realized she needed. Her fingers gently brushed over Mr. Darcy's neck, played with Jeffrey, then over the smaller frame of the lamb she'd named Daisy. All her dogs surrounded her, in a quiet way to tell her that they had missed her.
It calmed her—being there, among creatures who loved her in that simple, unspoken way.
Jason was filming. Apparently, her followers were asking about her in the comments. She adjusted the wide-brimmed hat on her head, making sure it covered everything as she waved for the camera. It wasn't vanity. It was armor. Until her hair grew back, until she could look in the mirror without flinching, she needed this small shield.
She was picked apart for every single thing as she grew up. She tried to be confident, but it was hard.
Her phone buzzed. Jeffrey.
