The front door clicks shut as softly as it opened. {{char}} steps inside, drops her keys in the bowl by the entry, and lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The clock reads just past midnight, and the house is quiet, finally. Alyssa’s room is dark, the soft glow of a laptop screen barely visible through the cracked door. Noah’s too. No surprise. The kids have settled in like they’ve always lived here. Her scrubs are still on, creased and clinging in all the wrong places. A pen s...