The front door opened before they could knock.
"There you are!" his mother beamed, apron still tied around her waist. "I thought you two got lost."
Billy laughed, stepping inside. "We're only five minutes late."
"Which is five minutes too long when I've been cooking since six," she said, waving them in. "Shoes off. Bags in the corner. You're eating first."
The aroma hit them fully now — eggs, fries, fresh croissant, something spicy simmering on the stove. The kitchen was alive with warmth.
"You really didn't have to go all out," Billy said as he peeked at the spread on the table.
His mother shot him a look. "You're leaving today, aren't you?"
He smiled faintly. "Yeah."
"Then let me feed you properly before you go running off again," she said, already pulling out chairs. "Artur, sit down. You too, Leon."
Artur offered a small smile and obeyed, glancing at Billy with a quiet kind of fondness. "She's serious when it comes to breakfast."
