The house had settled into a rhythm.
Noah ran through the mornings with laughter that echoed from room to room.
She had learned where the spoons hid, how Noah liked his toast slightly burnt, and which shirt Ethan reached for when he was tired but not ready to admit it.
Evenings felt different now.
Not frantic. Not uncertain. Not careful in the lonely way she used to practice.
She poured tea as Ethan leaned against the counter, shoulders relaxed.
“Do you ever think about how fast things changed?” she asked quietly.
He glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Sometimes. But slow and fast aren’t the same for everyone. For me, this has felt… steady.”
She studied him. “Steady is better than fast.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Steady means it lasts.”
She nodded, letting the warmth of
