Ethan POV

Night pressed hard against the windows. The house felt too still. Too quiet.

Somewhere far off, the generator hummed low, steady. I could hear the spoon clink against the bowl in my hand.

I had cooked.

Didn’t even know why that sounded strange until I said it in my head.

The smell of fried rice, grilled chicken. Warm air, faint oil. I hadn’t done this in years until when my family came to ridicule her and then now. And also,I did it tonight. For her.

Emma sat on the bed, hair ...