The rain came fast—violent sheets of it smacking the windows, wind howling down the chimney, thunder rumbling like a warning neither of them wanted to hear.
The kids had fallen asleep mid-movie, the living room bathed in a soft glow from the fireplace and the flicker of credits on the screen. Isabelle had carried Amelia upstairs, her small frame limp and warm against her shoulder. Sebastian followed with Elliott, who murmured something sleep-drunk about dinosaurs before collapsing into bed.
By the time they came back down, neither spoke.
They didn’t need to.
The room still held echoes of laughter from an hour ago—chocolate on Amelia’s cheek, Elliott’s terrible knock-knock jokes. But now?
It was just them.
The fire was lower now, shadows licking the walls. The storm outside made every
