Naomi's POV

The house smelled like cinnamon, lavender, and warm light. That was always the scent of home to me.

Not a place, but a feeling. A scent that reminded me we had survived the fire, the storms, the heartbreak—and built something stronger in the ashes.

I stood at the edge of the living room, watching Leah as she sat by the window. The journal she had been writing in for months lay open across her lap.

Her pen moved slowly, thoughtfully, while Serena, now a chubby-cheeked ...