Morning broke with a fragile clarity. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, leaving the streets glistening under pale sunlight. Ethan woke to the quiet hum of the city beginning to stir, the soft sound of tires on wet roads, birds calling in short bursts, and the faint smell of damp earth drifting through the open window.
Noah was already awake, perched on the edge of his bed, eyes half-closed, legs swinging gently. He looked small and unsteady, yet something in the way he held himself suggested a growing resilience—a resilience Ethan had watched develop, day by day, in countless quiet ways.
“Morning, buddy,” Ethan whispered, easing himself out of bed.
“Morning, Daddy,” Noah replied. “Can we go outside today? The clouds look… soft.”
Ethan smiled. “Soft clouds, huh? Alright. B
