We stay
At that moment, the front door opened with the click and weight of people returning to routine. Ethan and Ayisha’s shoes were heard in the hall, the two of them moving with that precise mix of tiredness and the habit of parents who kept a home running. The kids nearly froze and then scattered like peaceful birds at the sound of masters returning.
Ethan ducked his head into the doorway with a cup of coffee in hand, the smell of it trailing like a clean flag. “Morning, crew,” he said, voice rough with sleep but warm. Ayisha followed with a bag of groceries and a protective, tired expression. They moved across the kitchen with the practiced efficiency of two people who had taken on more than they could always carry.
Ayisha’s eyes flicked over the children and settled on Jamal for a
