Daniel carried the last box up the stairs to his new apartment, his mother’s voice echoing from the kitchen where she was already unpacking dishes with the efficiency of someone who’d moved many times.
“This place has good bones,” she called out. “And the location is perfect—close enough to Karen and Lindy, but far enough that you have your own space.”
The apartment was small but comfortable, the kind of place that would have felt cramped when he was younger but now seemed appropriately modest for a man trying to rebuild his life one careful decision at a time. Two bedrooms, one bath, a kitchen with enough counter space for actual cooking rather than just reheating takeout. It was a compromise solution—close enough to maintain his relationship with Karen and Lindy, but separate enough to
