Zoe's POV
The whole house was bubbling that morning—an entirely different energy from last night. Same morning rush, same clatter of cutlery, coffee pouring, voices crisscrossing in the air… but something was different.
Brandon didn't seem cold as usual. He was actually laughing. Laughing. With Margaret.
The sound stopped me mid-step on the stairs. I'd never heard it before—low, rough, unexpected. Normally, even if someone told a stage-worthy joke, he'd kill the mood with that long, unreadable face of his. I'd always figured he carried something heavy, locked so deep inside that nobody could touch it. But this morning, after what happened last night, I expected him to be grumpy or withdrawn, maybe hiding out in his room. Instead, he was there, smiling like the weight of the world had decided to skip him for the day.
