By the time November arrived, the trees along Maple Lane had lost most of their leaves, and the air carried a sharp, clean cold that made the porch feel less inviting in the evenings. Elias had started bringing an extra blanket out whenever we sat outside, and the fire in the living room stayed lit more often than not.
Amina had come home for a long weekend in mid-October. It had been quieter than her summer visit, but in a way that felt intentional rather than distant. She had spent long stretches reading on the porch or walking into town alone, but she had also initiated two separate conversations about the future — short, careful talks where she asked questions and we answered honestly. She still wasn’t ready to make any decisions, but she seemed less afraid of the topic itself.
She h
