The garden was smaller than Luca expected but carefully tended—rows of vegetables, flowers blooming in corner beds, a modest lawn where a tire swing hung from an old tree.
Yuki had already claimed the swing, pumping his legs to go higher, his laughter ringing out clear and bright.
"He loves that thing," Aiko said, walking beside Luca, hands clasped behind her back. "Dad put it up last summer."
Luca watched him, something warm and unfamiliar settling in his chest. "He seems happy."
"He is." Aiko paused, then added quietly, "We both are. But Mom... she's been different since she knew you were coming. Lighter, I think."
Luca glanced at her, surprised by the observation.
She shrugged, a wisdom beyond her ten years in the gesture. "She talks about you sometimes. When she thinks we're not listening. She misses you."
Before Luca could respond, their mother appeared from the house, carrying a tray with cut fruit and small pastries.
"Snack time," she called out.
