The following weekend arrived with a rare break in the rain, leaving the air in Willow Creek crisp and clean. Sunlight filtered through the clouds in soft patches, making the porch feel like a place for new beginnings rather than just secrets. Elias and I had spent the week doing small, ordinary things that felt significant — repotting plants together, walking into town for groceries, even attending a community meeting about the upcoming harvest festival. It was the closest thing to normal we had experienced in months.
On Saturday afternoon, we sat on the porch with our laptops open, waiting for the video call Amina had arranged. She wanted Noah to “properly meet” us before his visit. Elias’s leg bounced slightly under the table. I reached over and rested my hand on his knee.
“We don’t h
