It was a quiet Saturday morning, and the sunlight streamed gently through the wide windows of the Vescari residence. Kairo was in the kitchen, preparing his usual black coffee, while Arielle was setting the table for breakfast, arranging plates and cups with her habitual precision. The house was calm, almost peaceful, a stark contrast to the bustling days of their past.
“Have you noticed how cheerful Kieran’s been lately?” Arielle asked, breaking the comfortable silence. Her voice carried that quiet curiosity that Kairo had learned to recognize over the years.
Kairo didn’t look up immediately. He poured the coffee, the dark liquid filling the cup with a soft hiss from the machine. “I’ve noticed,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. “He’s… lighter. Easier to be around.”
Arielle pl
