For a second, she just stood there, watching him sleep, feeling something warm and quiet bloom in her chest.
Then she shook her head lightly, almost embarrassed at herself, and quietly slipped out of the room so she wouldn't wake him.
The hallway was cool under her bare feet as she walked toward the kitchen, the house still wrapped in early morning calm. From the boys' room came soft, sleepy breathing and the faint rustle of blankets. She peeked in just for a second.
Both boys were still asleep, tangled slightly in blankets, looking impossibly small and peaceful.
Her heart softened instantly.
Closing the door halfway, she moved into the kitchen and tied her hair properly before starting breakfast.
The quiet domestic routine grounded her quickly.
She washed vegetables, cut fruit, set bread to toast, and warmed milk slowly so it wouldn't burn. The small sounds of cooking filled the silence. Knife tapping the board. Pan warming. Spoon stirring.
