Money couldn’t erase the burn on her face. It couldn’t return the years she’d spent lowering her voice so as not to upset Derek, and it couldn’t give back the mornings she’d felt guilty for saying no to his demands.

But it could pay for her therapy, change the curtains, fix the kitchen wall, and remind the world that what violence breaks cannot be repaired with pity.

One sunny Saturday, almost eight months after that terrible morning, Skylar invited Megan, her cousin Lucy, and two coworkers over for breakfast. They made fresh breakfast tacos, orange juice, and sweet bread, and the kitchen filled with loud laughter.

Someone put on soft music in the living room. Morning sun streamed through the window and fell right where the old breakfast table used to stand.

In the middle of breakfast, Lucy raised her teacup with a smile.

“To the houses that come back to the people who actually take care of them,” Lucy said.