The snow had come and gone twice by the time Thanksgiving week arrived. The air in Willow Creek was sharp and cold, but the house on Maple Lane felt warmer than it had in years. Elias and I had spent the days leading up to the holiday in quiet preparation — not frantic cleaning or forced perfection, but the kind of steady work that comes from wanting everything to feel safe.
Amina and Noah were due to arrive on Wednesday afternoon. They would stay through Sunday. It was the longest visit yet, and the first major holiday with the truth out in the open. We had talked to Amina several times about what she needed from the weekend. She had been honest in return: she still felt strange sometimes, but she wanted to try. She wanted Noah to see the full version of her life here, not just a quick s
