The late sunlight spilled through the windows, stretching long golden arms across the kitchen floors and bathing the house in the kind of light that made everything feel softer. Gentler. Like even the walls themselves were willing them to forgive.
Isabelle wiped down the kitchen counter in slow, absent circles.
Behind her, the twins were chattering at the dining table, papers and markers strewn everywhere. The scent of fresh pasta lingered in the air. So did something heavier—something Isabelle couldn’t name.
She caught snatches of their conversation.
“Don’t forget to draw Mommy and Daddy,” Amelia said, tapping the giant poster board with a glittery pen.
“I know,” Elliott said, frowning in deep concentration. His tongue poked out between his teeth the way it always did when he was foc
