It was a peaceful Saturday, and for once, the Knight penthouse felt calm. No tension. No arguments. Just quiet and the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the living room. Ann sat on the floor, playing with her son. He was in a cheerful mood, babbling and clapping as she built a small tower of soft blocks. Each time the tower fell, he laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world.
Richard was in the kitchen, making coffee. Victor was in the armchair, reading the newspaper. He had stayed an extra day, which was surprising in itself. But what surprised everyone more was how he had started to change. He still wore his usual serious face, still spoke in short sentences, but his sharpness had softened. The coldness in his eyes had faded, replaced by
