The morning began with laughter the kind that came softly, unexpectedly, like sunlight sneaking through half open blinds.

For once, Violet wasn’t waking up to chaos, meetings, or memories clawing at her mind. She woke to the smell of pancakes. Real pancakes. Not the burnt, overly ambitious ones Bryan had once proudly ruined, but golden, fluffy perfection.

She blinked, disoriented for a moment, then smiled when she heard the faint sound of humming from the kitchen. The tune was familiar offbeat, carefree the one Bryan always hummed when he was trying to keep a secret.

Throwing on one of his oversized shirts, Violet padded barefoot down the hallway, her hair...