We went downstairs together.
Not hand in hand, not obviously close—just walking side by side, as if that had always been the way. Still, I was acutely aware of him beside me, of the shared glances and unspoken ease that lingered between us like a secret only we knew.
The kitchen was already alive with the comforting sounds of morning. Plates clinked. A kettle whistled softly. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bread filled the air.
Miriam stood by the counter, humming to herself, while Neil sat at the table buttering toast with careful concentration.
They both looked up when we entered.
Miriam’s eyes flicked from me to Nathan and back again.
She didn’t say a word.
She just smiled.
It wasn’t teasing this time. It was knowing. Warm. Satisfied.
“Morning,” Neil said easily
