The sanctuary of childhood is often built on the quietest of foundations, yet for Leo, the eldest son of the Miller family, that foundation was nearly shattered by the intangible weight of a recurring dream. To an outsider, the Miller household was a picture of suburban peace—the soft hum of the refrigerator, the scent of lavender laundry detergent, and the rhythmic creaking of the floorboards. But for seven-year-old Leo, the nights had become a battlefield. Every morning, long before the sun had fully breached the horizon to burn away the morning mist, his parents, Sarah and David, would observe a...
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