The house felt different the morning after Thanksgiving. Not empty, but settled in a way it hadn’t been in months. Snow had fallen again during the night, soft and quiet, blanketing the porch railing and the bare lilac bushes. Elias and I moved through the kitchen in comfortable silence, reheating leftovers and making coffee while Amina and Noah slept in.
They had stayed at the inn again, but Amina had texted late the night before saying they would come over for breakfast before heading back to campus. It felt like a small but important choice — she was choosing to spend a little more time with us before leaving.
When they arrived just after ten, the four of us sat around the kitchen table with plates of turkey sandwiches and reheated stuffing. The conversation started light. Noah compli
