The second you step into the house, it smells like roasted chicken and rosemary. Warm. Familiar. Safe.

Ash barely gets a foot inside before his mom pulls him into a hug.

“Let me look at you,” Jane says, holding his face like he’s still twelve.

He exhales through his nose, half annoyed, half soft. “Hey, mom.”

Henry, his father, claps him on the shoulder next. “Still standing straight. Good. Means you’re not slacking.”

Ash smirks. “Never.”

You feel it — that subtle shift in him. He’s relaxed. Proud. Watching the kids take over the house like they own it. His heavy gaze softens when Amelia (6) runs straight to Jane.

“Grandma, can I help?” she asks, already rolling up her sleeves.

Jane lights up. “Of course you can. Come here, I need a serious assistant.”

Amelia looks over her shoulder at you like she just got promoted. Ash catches your eye and gives you that small nod. See? That’s my girl.

Bryan (18) shakes Henry’s hand properly. “Good evening, Grandpa.”

Henry grins. “Look at you. A man now.”

Bryan tries not to smile too much. “Trying to be.”

Meanwhile two seconds later, in the living room :

“Bro, stop pushing me.”

“I’m not pushing you, you’re just slow.”

Zachery (16) and Bryan shoulder-check each other like they’re five, not sixteen and eighteen.

Ash doesn’t even turn around. “Boys.”

One word. Deep. Firm.

They freeze.

“Yeah?”

“Cut it.”

“…Yes, Dad.”

Henry chuckles. “You used to be worse.”

Ash deadpans, “I know.”

Meanwhile, Milo (2) has decided the world is ending.

He’s glued to your leg, little hands gripping your jeans, lower lip trembling dramatically.

“Mamaaa…”

You try to peel him off gently. “Baby, it’s okay.”

He whines louder.

Ash finally crouches down in front of him. “Hey.”

Milo looks at him. Betrayed. Emotional.

Ash brushes a thumb under his chin. “You’re fine. House didn’t change.”

Milo just buries his face into you harder.

Ash sighs, stands up, and without a word slides a hand to the small of your back. Grounding. Solid.

“He’ll settle,” he mutters near your ear. “He just doesn’t like new rooms.”

You glance at him. “He’s been here a hundred times.”

“Still new to him.”

Bryan walks by with Zachery.

“You want help setting the table?” Bryan asks Jane.

Zachery snorts. “Since when do you volunteer?”

Bryan elbows him. “Shut up.”

Ash gives them a look. “You’re both setting the table.”

“Why me?” Zachery complains.

“Because you breathe,” Ash replies calmly.

Henry chuckles from the living room.

A few minutes later, Amelia is standing on a chair beside Jane, very serious.

“Grandma, do you cut it like this?”

Jane smiles. “Perfect. Just like that.”

Ash watches from across the kitchen, arms crossed. Quiet. Content. You see it in his eyes — that heavy, intense gaze — but it’s not sharp tonight. It’s full.

He leans slightly closer to you. “Look at them.”

You look. Bryan trying to act responsible but whisper-yelling at Zachery about forks. Amelia glowing under Jane’s praise. Milo finally calming down, sucking his thumb and holding onto your shirt.

Ash’s jaw tightens for a second. Not stress. Emotion.

“Did good,” Henry says from behind him.

Ash glances at his father. “Yeah?”

Henry nods toward the kids. “Yeah.”

Ash doesn’t smile big. He just nods once. That’s enough.