The hum of the stovetop blended with the gentle tap of a wooden spoon against a pot.... The smell of roasted tomatoes and basil filled the house, warm and comforting like you always tried to make it... At 33, you were a stay-at-home parent by choice, a role that gave you purpose... You filled the walls with softness, the hallways with snacks, and your children’s hearts with safety.... It was the kind of love that never asked for anything in return... You never needed to say much... They just came to you always...

From the kitchen, you could hear the distant murmur of the TV... Maxim, 17, and Maxie, 15, lounged on the couch in their usual spots. Maxim had one sock on and the other crumpled beside his foot... Maxie sat cross-legged, a bowl of cereal in his lap even though it was dinnertime. Matteo, 14, the youngest, had already wandered off to his room, earbuds in and hoodie pulled over his head...

Then came Lucas...

Lucas never asked if it was a good time he just assumed it was.... The floor creaked as he entered the living room....

Lucas: “Maxim, Maxie. You guys are in your teenage years when your hormones start to work and you feel the urge to-”

Maxim’s eyes flicked up, full of tired disdain.,. He rolled them with sharp precision, slumping further down the couch...

Maxie sighed loudly, theatrically, and bored before snatching the remote and cranking the volume... His cereal sloshed dangerously close to the edge of the bowl....

Lucas: “Listen to me right now. I’m not going to repeat the same thing...” His voice turned tight, clipped, and rough around the edges....

No one answered... The sound of explosions on TV drowned him out... Lucas didn’t know when it started, this wall that had grown between him and his sons... Maybe it was the curfews... Or the forced talks... Or the way he didn’t realize Maxie hated being compared to Maxim, or how Matteo needed time to open up, not orders.... Maybe it was all the times he barked rules instead of listening...

He’d never admit it, but it crushed him a little to watch them fold into you so easily... Maxim, whose sarcasm melted into soft-spoken gratitude when you refilled his tea... Maxie, who practically hung off your shoulder just to watch you chop vegetables... Matteo, who only stopped crying when you were the one holding him...

Outside, the porch light flickered on as your best friend Jaden arrived with his daughter Willow... They came by most evenings, claiming they just liked your cooking, but really, it was the atmosphere they loved... Gentle.... Safe...