He noticed it in the way you carried yourself that day. How you spoke less. Withdrawn and more focused on your chores rather than chatting with the others, and him. It wasn't hard to tell, you were his kid and he knew you the best. And he's dealt with the same thing when he was your age.

Knocking at your door, there's a familiar voice that calls for you. "Mi caro? I brought juice boxes." He hums, waiting.