The apartment had always been quiet.
Alexander preferred it that way. Stillness made sense to him — it gave him room to think, to forget how loud his childhood had been.
But now, there were footsteps at 7 a.m.
A forgotten spoon clinking in the sink.
Piano music echoing softly from the study.
Emma was staying for a week. At least, that's what she said when she arrived.
But now… she hadn't booked a return flight.
And Alexander hadn't asked why.
Lena found Emma curled up in the corner of her office later that morning, legs tucked beneath her, sketchpad open.
She looked up sheepishly. "Sorry — the studio was locked."
"You're always welcome here," Lena said. "You know that, right?"
Emma hesitated. "I don't want to be a bother."
Lena smiled. "You're not. You're just… unexpected."
Emma gave a soft laugh. "That's what my mom always said too."
Lena sat beside her and glanced at the drawing.
It was a house. Tall windows. Sloped roof. Lush ivy climbing the brick.
"Is this from a reference?"
Emma shook her head. "It's in my head. A house I dreamed about once. I draw it when I'm stressed."
"Have you ever thought about designing for real?"
"I don't know if I'm good enough."
"You're better than I was at your age," Lena said. "And I made it."
Emma looked up, something like hope flickering in her eyes.
Lena squeezed her shoulder. "Want to help me design our next project?"
Emma blinked. "You'd let me?"
"I'd teach you."
Alexander stood in the hallway that evening, watching the two of them spread papers and sketches across the floor of Lena's office.
He didn't step in.
He just watched, quietly.
Two pieces of his life — once separate — finally beginning to overlap.
He thought he might cry again, but he didn't.
He just smiled.
That night, over dinner, Emma looked up and said, "I was thinking… maybe I could look at some colleges in New York."
Alexander set down his fork.
Lena didn't speak — she let him have this moment.
He cleared his throat. "Architecture?"
Emma nodded. "Or maybe design. I don't know yet."
"You have time," he said.
"I know. I just… I'd like to stay a while. If that's okay."
He reached across the table, covered her hand with his.
"I want you here, Emma. For as long as you'll have me."
Later, Lena and Alexander lay in bed, the city humming beyond their window.
"She's incredible," Lena said.
"So are you."
"I'm not her mother."
"You don't have to be," he whispered. "You're something just as important."
She turned to him. "What's that?"
He kissed her temple. "Safe."
On her third morning in the apartment, Emma opened her bedroom door to find a box sitting outside.
Inside was a brand-new set of drafting pencils.
Three sketchbooks.
And a note.
"The world needs your vision.
—L"
She held the note for a long time.
Then, quietly, she stepped into the living room where the morning light poured through tall windows.
And for the first time since her mother died…
Emma felt like maybe she had a home.