Elena’s POV

The words hung in the kitchen like smoke that refused to clear.

“I believe I owe your family an explanation.”

Mr. Nik stood just inside the doorway, the white paper bag and cardboard coffee tray resting on the nearest counter. The morning light from the hallway window caught the edge of his jacket and the quiet lines of his face. He did not look rushed. He did not look apologetic. He looked like a man who had walked into a room full of people who had every reason to doubt him and decided the only useful response was honesty.

My father was the first to speak.

“Then explain...