Chapter 10 - Sunday Dinner
The dining room table was bathed in the warm, golden glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the sheer curtains.
We all sat down together—Melissa at the head of the table, Lily sitting right beside her, and me across from them. In the center of the table sat a large, steaming ceramic bowl of rich beef stew, surrounded by crusty artisan bread, fresh butter, and glasses of cold milk.
There was no tension in the air. No ticking clocks reminding us of hidden dangers. No whispered fears lingering in the corners of the room. Just the gentle murmur of conversation, the clinking of silverware against porcelain, and the quiet, radiant peace of a family reclaimed.
Melissa smiled across the table, raising her glass of water. “To new beginnings,” she said softly. “And to family who never lets you walk through the dark alone.”
“To new beginnings,” I echoed, raising my glass in response.
Lily lifted her small cup of milk with both hands, mimicking us with a proud, beaming grin. “And to purple crayons!” she added cheerfully.
We all laughed, the sound echoing brightly through the house.
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Lily picked up her spoon, scooped a generous, steaming bite of potato and tender beef, and ate it with a happy, satisfied smile. She didn't need to ask permission. She didn't need to wonder if she was allowed.
She was home. She was safe. And she was deeply, unconditionally loved.
