Gwen spotted Elizabeth near the front pews, her head bowed slightly as she spoke with the pastor. She looked calm—unusually so. When their eyes met, Gwen braced herself for a cold look, but it never came. Instead Elizabeth walked over slowly and opened her arms. “I’m really sorry, Gwen. Truly.”
For a second, Gwen thought she’d been dreaming. She stood still, startled by the softness in Elizabeth’s voice. No tension in her shoulders, no edge in her tone. Just… warmth. Gwen offered a tentative nod, her instincts unsure whether to lean into the moment or guard against it. “Thank you,” she said quietly.