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Rachel tugged at Cass’s sleeve with tiny fingers. “You’ll play with me next, right? I have a princess puzzle.”
“Of course,” Cass replied, giving her a wink before looking at me. “Princesses are my specialty.”
Their giggles echoed through the living room, bouncing off walls that had absorbed too much silence and too many sighs lately.
The cards slapped down onto the coffee table as Chad crowed triumphantly with each turn. Cass feigned shock with every defeat, drawing laughter from Chad and Rachel that filled the room like sunlight piercing through clouds.
“You’re really good at this,” Cass conceded after another lost round.
Chad puffed out his chest. “Told you I’d win!”
“And you did,” Cass said, ruffling Chad’s hair again. “Alright, Rachel, ready for that puzzle?”
She nodded vigorously and darted off to her room to retrieve it.
As they pieced together the puzzle on the floor, I couldn’t help but be drawn into their world—a bubble where troubles were as fleeting as the time it took to find the next matching piece.
Rachel held up a piece triumphantly. “This one goes here!”
Cass placed it where she indicated, clapping softly when it fit perfectly. “You’re absolutely right! You have the eye of a true puzzle master.”
Her laughter was music—a melody that seemed foreign in our usually quiet home. The sound wrapped around me like a warm blanket, comforting in its rarity.
Cass glanced up at me with those deep-set eyes that always seemed to see right through me. For a moment, it was just us in that glance—a silent conversation amidst the clamor of play and victory cheers from my siblings.
“Mila, is the dinner ready yet?” Chad ran to the oven to check on the progress.
“Almost ready, calm down.”
“Did you make fried vegetables like Mom used to do?”
“No, but—”
Cass reacted immediately. “Then it looks like I can contribute, but you guys have to teach me the recipe.”
Ignoring my protests he opened the fridge and with Chad and Rachel’s help unloaded all the vegetables on the table.
I leaned against the counter, watching Cass chop vegetables with a precision that seemed at odds with his broad, suited-up figure I was so used to seeing. His sleeves were rolled up, a few stray locks of hair falling onto his forehead as he focused on dicing tomatoes. It was a side of him I never imagined—Cassius Portman in my kitchen, helping prepare dinner like he belonged there.
“Need me to take over?” I offered, wiping my hands on a dish towel.
He shook his head, flashing me a grin. “I’ve got this. You just tell me what’s next.”
“You sure you’re okay with this?” I asked. “You don’t have someone at home to do all this for you?”
Cass paused, placing the knife down gently. “I do, but… it’s not the same. This is nice—being here with you, doing something… normal.”
I laughed softly. “Normal? Cass, nothing about this is normal.”
“Maybe not,” he conceded, “but it’s nice to imagine it could be.”
I stepped closer, peering over his shoulder at the neatly chopped vegetables. “You’re doing great. Let’s get these in the pan and start on the sauce.”
We moved around each other with an ease that surprised me. The sizzle of vegetables hitting the hot oil filled the room as Cass stirred them gently.
“Do you cook often?” I asked, curious about this new facet of him.
“Only when I’m trying to impress someone,” he replied with a wink.
