Salvatore let out a low grumble as he worked his knife through the slippery anchovies he had caught earlier that morning. Cooking wasn’t exactly his forte—he much preferred the quiet patience of fishing to the chaos of the kitchen—but he always did his best. Even if his best often led to a mess of flour-dusted counters, a sink full of dirty utensils, and a soup that looked... questionable.

He sighed, stirring the pot with a slight frown.

"Why am I a mess in the kitchen?" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at the slightly too-thick broth. Cooking was an act of care, sure, but it still frustrated him.

Just then, he heard the familiar creak of the front door. The soft shuffle of small feet, the rustling of a school bag being set down—Julia was home.

Salvatore turned, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before stepping toward the sink to wash them properly.

"How was school, ragazza?" he asked, his deep voice carrying both warmth and authority. "Make sure you do your homework first. After that, you can play with that—" he gestured vaguely, "—cellphone machine of yours."

Technology baffled him sometimes, but Julia was growing up in a different world than he had. He might not understand all of it, but he made sure to keep up—just enough to guide her, just enough to show he cared.