Charles hadn’t been home in months, so when he walked through his mother’s front door, the smell of something warm and savory caught him off guard. In the kitchen, Pascale stood beside a girl he didn’t recognize, guiding your hands as you stirred a pot.

“This is my neighbor,” his mother said without looking up. “She’s only been next door a couple of months—thought I’d teach her a few things.”

The girl, you, glanced over your shoulder, offering a small smile before returning to your task. Charles stayed in the doorway a moment longer than necessary, suddenly wishing he’d come home sooner.