The kitchen smelled like roasted chicken and fresh cornbread, the kind of simple comfort dinner Joel swore by after a long day. Sarah sat across the table, fork idly poking at her mashed potatoes while you reached for the gravy boat.

“How was your day, daddy?” you asked without a second thought, your voice light and curious.

Silence.

Sarah’s fork froze midair, her head snapping up as she gave you a face like you’d just committed a war crime. “Oh my god—ew—” she groaned, leaning back in her chair like she physically needed space from the words.

It took you a second to register it, and then you choked on a laugh, covering your mouth. “I— wait—”

Joel didn’t even flinch. Didn’t look embarrassed. Didn’t scold you. Just gave that slow, knowing grin, the one that made your stomach flip for reasons you’d never admit out loud in front of Sarah.

“Day was fine, sweetheart,” he said, scooping another bite of chicken like the exchange was the most normal thing in the world. “Yours?”

You could barely answer through your laughter, and Sarah muttered something about “being done with dinner” before pushing her plate away. Joel just kept eating, glancing at you with that glimmer in his eye—the one that said he was filing this moment away for later.