Lucas shifted Ethan smoothly onto his hip, and the five-year-old rested his head comfortably against his father's broad shoulder, already half-lulled by the quiet rhythm of the evening. His small fingers curled loosely into the fabric of Lucas's shirt, a sleepy sigh escaping him as the last of the day's energy drained away.
Nina reached over to flick off the main kitchen light switches, the warm overhead glow fading into soft ambient light that pooled gently across the countertops. She lingered there a moment, savoring the stillness, the quiet weight of the day finally settling into her bones, before pulling the kitchen door closed behind them, her hand trailing along the wall until it found the sleek digital clock panel set into the hallway.
7:02 PM.
