Kathryn's Point of View
The kitchen smells like roasted garlic and herbs. A small vase with fresh flowers sits in the center of the table.
I move around the kitchen with nervous precision, laying out a simple but thoughtful lunch, lasagna, a garden salad, and warm rolls.
At the island, Colton is humming along to a children’s song playing from my phone, crayons scattered in front of him as he colors.
I glance at the clock, my hands nervously fidgeting with a folded napkin, my stomach flutters not from hunger, but from anticipation.
Finally, the front door clicks open, and I look at the table again, making sure everything looks okay.
"Okay. Just act normal, don’t overdo it."
I say to myself quietly as footsteps approach. Elijah walks in, pausing in the doorway to take in the scene.
