The sunlight cutting through the blinds of Marcus Webb’s Chicago law office felt brittle. Blake Carlson sat across the heavy walnut desk, his eyes locked on the sworn affidavit signed by his sister-in-law, Carrie Holland.

That evening, the kitchen of their new home smelled of cinnamon, roasted chicken, and happiness. There were no guests, no champagne glasses waiting to be judged, no cold rules or silent punishments.

Just home.

Ethan sat at the kitchen island, diligently doing his homework while Blake stirred a pot of soup on the stove.

The doorbell rang. Ethan looked up, his eyes widening slightly with old reflex anxiety.

Blake walked over, placing a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder. “Hey, I’ve got it. Keep working, buddy.”

Blake opened the front door. It was just the mail delivery, dropping off a small package on the porch.

As Blake picked it up and stepped back inside, the door clicked shut behind him, sealing out the cold December wind forever. He locked it securely, tossed his keys on the counter, and walked back to the kitchen where the warmth radiated from every corner.

Ethan looked up, flashing a bright, confident smile. “Dad? Can we read two chapters of my book tonight instead of one?”