The smell of coffee drifted through the air. Mama B had left fresh muffins on the counter the night before with a note: You’re all going to need these. Love you.
Nadyia stood barefoot at the sink, humming to herself as Liam moved around behind her, occasionally brushing her shoulder or hip as he helped prepare breakfast. Noah came in with Ethan on his hip, the baby gurgling and giggling at the sight of his mother. For the first time in what felt like forever, the kitchen wasn’t a battleground. It was a haven. A new rhythm was setting in slowly, intentionally, and just beginning.
Later that morning, as the three of them sat at the kitchen table sharing quiet laughter and spooning eggs onto plates, a breeze slipped through the cracked kitchen window, fluttering the edge of a paper towel on
