Dante woke to sunlight spilling across his face.

Warm. Soft. Real.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

He just lay there and listened.

The house was quiet.

Peaceful in a way that still felt new.

Sienna slept beside him, one hand resting near his arm.

Elena’s soft breathing came from the crib in the corner.

Down the hall, Leo’s door was closed.

Their home.

Their life.

Dante closed his eyes briefly.

The dream was still there.

His father’s voice.

Forgive.

Move on.

Live.

He sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Sienna.

The air felt different this morning.

Lighter.

Or maybe it was him.

He got dressed and walked into...