Irvin's POV
Mom, Barnaby, and I sat around our large dining table, sharing a meal together.
As I watched my family, I noticed something I'd never witnessed before—genuine happiness. Real, effortless, authentic joy. No forced grins or uncomfortable silences. Just tranquility.
Barnaby ate with complete comfort, his frame loose and at ease. Mom had a radiance I hadn't seen since my childhood.
It felt right.
The gentle sound of silverware against plates punctuated the natural breaks in our conversation. Nothing seemed strained. It felt serene, the way things should have always been.
I couldn't shake the tight feeling in my chest as I realized we'd never truly functioned as a proper family—never this carefree, never laughing around a table without wondering what Will Jenkin's next move against us would be.
"I actually really enjoy the facility," Barnaby said, chewing his food while trying to keep his voice down with his mouth partially full.
