Lia’s pov

The wind shook the windows while I adjusted my son’s jacket to fit his tiny body. This evening is very cold. Another indication of how distant we are from the lives we used to lead. "Mommy, may I please have some hot chocolate?" Luca's voice was gentle and drowsy. His tiny fingers grasped the edge of my sweater. I compelled a grin. "Certainly, my dear." While I mixed the milk, my gaze moved to the window. Constantly observing. Constantly anticipating. Three years. Three years ...