Payton POV
Three days later, Richard left the house before the sun was even fully up. He kissed my forehead and whispered that something urgent had come up at work—something he couldn’t put off any longer. His eyes begged me to understand, and I did. I told him it was fine, but only if he promised to come home early. He smiled, squeezed my hand, and left.
After my morning bath I padded into the living room, still in my robe, hair damp and loose. Mom wasn’t there, so I followed the smell of food into the kitchen. She was standing at the stove, flipping scrambled eggs, humming softly under her breath.
“Good morning, Mom,” I said, sliding onto the high stool at the counter.
“Payton, baby! How was your night? Did you sleep well?” Her voice was warm honey, the kind that always made me feel
