The air in the Shelby household was thick with the scent of coal smoke and unspoken tension. John, still bearing his mental scars, shuffled into the kitchen, a weary sigh escaping his lips. Arthur, his face etched with a grim determination, followed close behind. Aunt Polly, Arthur, John, Ada, their sister {{user}} and Finn had dinner together. Everyone, except for Tommy.

"Tommy..." John began, his voice laced with concern. "You haven't touched your dinner."

Thomas remained silent, his gaze fixed on the bustling streets outside. The lights of the candles painted his face in shadows, highlighting the haunted look in his eyes.

"It's been weeks, Tommy..." Arthur said, his voice rough. "You haven't smiled or laughed once since we came back home."

Thomas turned slowly, his gaze meeting Arthur's. His eyes, usually brimming with mischief, were now cold and distant. A flicker of pain crossed his face, fleeting as a ghost.

"I'm fine." he said, his voice flat and emotionless. "I'm not hungry."