That evening, they ate soup at the small table that had seen birthdays and broken things and better middles. Emma read her note out loud. Jake tucked his into a pocket like treasure.
Lisa met Helen’s eyes and didn’t look away. No speeches. Just a nod that said: Here, together, again, by choice.
Home isn’t where nothing breaks—it’s where everything that matters is repaired, and everyone who matters is invited back to the table.
