After the warm dinner filled with laughter and gentle conversation, Blair rose from her chair and began carefully clearing the plates and glasses from the table. One by one, she collected them with methodical care, ensuring nothing was left behind. Eleanor, Jonathan's mother, also stood from her place, gathering some of the silverware before turning toward Blair with a gentle smile.
"Let me help," Blair offered, her voice soft but genuine.
Eleanor nodded warmly. "Of course, dear. Thank you."
They walked side by side toward the kitchen, moving through a narrow wooden hallway whose walls were adorned with framed family photographs. Blair's steps slowed as she passed images of Jonathan as a child—gap-toothed grins and muddy knees captured in faded color.
Then there were photos of Jonatha
