The sun crept slowly across the tiles of Starfall's eastern wing, lingering on the quiet faces that gathered in the old garden.
Anthony and Aurora had set aside the duties of estate life for a few rare hours, choosing instead to share quiet tea with their son beneath the gentle shade of the willow.
Ethan had always loved these moments—a smooth ceramic cup warm in his hands, the faint perfume of moss and wild roses drifting on the air.
Today felt different: heavier, softer, filled with the hush that only comes when hearts are open.
Anthony stretched his legs, sighing contentedly.
"You know, my father used to tell a story with every sip of tea. I thought him ancient and silly, but now I see the wisdom in his ways—memory is a medicine of its own."
Aurora smiled, settling against her husband's arm.
"He told stories not just for himself, but for us—for you, Ethan. That's what families are: living libraries."
