Sophia
Emma had been quietly watching Noah and me these past several weeks with the careful, assessing attention of someone reserving final judgment until she felt genuinely confident in her conclusion. I noticed it in small ways, the way she'd study his reactions during busy mornings, the way she'd linger a beat longer than necessary whenever he helped with closing tasks, quietly gauging whether his consistency was genuine or simply another temporary performance.
It was on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, the shop quiet during our usual slow stretch, that she finally seemed to settle fully into her verdict.
"Okay," she said, setting down the rag she'd been using to wipe the counter, studying Noah as he helped restock the napkin dispensers without being asked. "I officially approve."
Noa
