It rained that evening.
Not the soft drizzle from weeks before, but heavy, persistent sheets that hammered against the windows.
Noah was upstairs, tucked under blankets, murmuring about dragons and chocolate milk in his sleep.
She stood in the kitchen, towel in hand, drying dishes she didn’t really want to wash.
Ethan appeared beside her without a sound.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
She nodded, though her chest felt tight. “I’m fine.”
“Rain makes you think too much,” he said.
She looked up at him. “I was thinking about how small moments feel like forever now.”
He smiled faintly. “The small moments are what last.”
She pressed the towel to the counter and sighed. “I never thought I’d feel like this—like I belong somewhere. Like we belong somewhere.”
He reached for her hand, finge
