Long after Jamal left, Stefan remained seated alone in the kitchen.
For a long moment, he just stared at the breakfast spread in front of him without really seeing it.
Only the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and the low hum of the refrigerator filled the silence.
Late morning light streamed in through the large windows and settled across the marble counter.
Stefan leaned back slowly in his chair and dragged a tired hand over his face.
He was exhausted; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Everything that had happened since yesterday still felt unreal to him.
The explosion.
Fearing Genevieve was dead.
Seeing her alive again.
The exchange with Jamal.
His chest tightened slightly at that as he remembered his conversation with Jamal and Genevieve about acting like an outsider when he was part of the family.
Family.
It was strange how such a simple word could feel so warm and terrifying at the same time.
