Morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the kitchen. The scent of roasted coffee beans drifted in the air, mingled with the quiet hum of the espresso machine.
Sophia stood at the counter, stirring sugar into a porcelain cup. Her fingers trembled slightly, betraying the calm mask she wore.
Behind her, footsteps.
She didn't turn.
"You take your coffee the same," Adrian said from the doorway. "Two spoons of sugar. No milk."
She finally looked at him. His hair was still tousled from sleep. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing the veins on his forearms. He looked nothing like the polished surgeon the world praised—but everything like the man she once loved.
"I didn't know you noticed," she said, voice guarded.
"I used to notice everything about you," he replied.
Sophia slid a second cup toward him. "Habit?"
"No," he said, sitting across from her. "Hope."
She froze, hand mid-air. "Hope for what?"
"For a life I thought we lost," he answered. "For mornings like this. You. Me. Ethan. No lies."
She lowered her gaze. "It's not that simple, Adrian."
"Maybe not. But pretending we're strangers hasn't worked either."
---
Ethan padded into the kitchen then, still half-asleep in his dinosaur pajamas.
"Mommy?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
Sophia rushed to him. "I'm here, baby."
Adrian bent down. "Morning, buddy."
Ethan looked between them, sleepy but curious. "Did you sleep here, Daddy?"
Adrian glanced at Sophia. "Yeah. I did."
Ethan smiled drowsily. "Can we all eat pancakes?"
Sophia blinked, the question landing heavier than it should.
Adrian smiled. "I'll make them."
Sophia started to protest, but Ethan clapped excitedly, tugging on Adrian's sleeve. "Yay!"
And so she watched as Adrian pulled out the mixing bowl like he'd done it a hundred times in another life. Watched as Ethan giggled when flour spilled onto the counter. Watched as her son bonded with the man he never got to grow up with.
She watched—and something in her cracked.
Not in pain.
But in possibility.
---
Outside, the world was moving as always. But inside their kitchen, something had shifted.
Not forgiveness.
Not love reborn.
Just… peace.
A quiet moment where all three of them belonged.
Together.
Even if they hadn't yet said it out loud.