The house was quiet except for the soft creak of floorboards and the distant hum of the refrigerator. Wendy knelt in front of Thomas in the nursery-turned-guest-room, easing the black suit jacket from his shoulders like she was handling something holy.

  “Let’s keep this perfect for next time,” she murmured, folding it with care into the garment bag. “You looked incredible tonight.”

  Thomas managed half a smile. “Thanks. For… everything.”

  She zipped the bag, then sat back on her heels. “So. How are you holding up?”

  He sank onto the edge of the daybed, eyes on the carpet. “The food was good. Shoshana was… nice. Really nice.” His voice cracked a little. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel right now.”

  Wendy’s voice stayed soft. “You don’t have to know tonight.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, the medallion still warm against his skin. “I went from sitting alone at lunch to… living with the guy who wanted to bite my head off six hours ago. Because of his granddaughter. Who I like talking to. A lot.” A shaky laugh escaped. “It’s insane.”

  He looked up, eyes glassy. “I get why he’s scared of moving. I’ve done it too many times. But everything tonight was… huge. And if I try to name it, I’m afraid I’ll just—” His throat closed. He pressed his lips together hard.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Wendy didn’t push. She simply rose, sat beside him on the narrow bed, and rested a gentle hand between his shoulder blades.

  Eric appeared in the doorway, took in the scene, and crossed the room without a word. He sat on Thomas’s other side. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, both of them wrapped their arms around him, loose, warm, steady.

  No speeches. No questions.

  Just presence.

  Thomas’s shoulders started to shake, small tremors at first, then deeper. He didn’t make a sound, but the tears came anyway, hot and silent, soaking into Eric’s shirt. Wendy’s hand moved in slow circles on his back.

  After a long minute, Wendy whispered against his hair, “We’ve got you. As long as you need.”

  Thomas didn’t answer with words. He just leaned, the weight of the day finally allowed to rest somewhere safe.

  Somewhere in the hall, a three-year-old’s bare feet pattered. A small head poked around the doorframe, hair wild from sleep, clutching a stuffed dinosaur.

  The toddler took one look at Thomas surrounded by his parents, toddled straight over, and climbed into Thomas’s lap like he’d done it a hundred times before. Tiny arms looped around Thomas’s neck.

  “Mine,” the boy declared sleepily, and promptly fell back asleep against Thomas’s chest.

  Thomas let out a wet, wondering laugh that sounded almost like relief.

  Wendy kissed the top of his head. “Looks like the vote was unanimous.”

  Eric’s voice was rough. “Sleep here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll take you to your new room. But right now—just breathe.”

  Thomas closed his eyes, one hand curled protectively around the sleeping child, the other gripping Wendy’s sleeve like a lifeline.

  For the first time in years, the pause between heartbeats didn’t feel dangerous.

  It felt like the beginning of home.