(BLUE'S POV)
That afternoon, the kitchen smelled like warmth and happiness.
I stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, humming softly under my breath while chopping fresh vegetables for the soup I was making Mason. The knife moved in steady rhythm, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. It was on the boy upstairs who had finally started to look less like a wounded bird and more like someone who might actually believe he was safe here. Every time I thought about him sleeping peacefully in my bed, in the clothes I had secretly bought for him, a quiet, giddy happiness bloomed in my chest like flowers after rain.
I still couldn't quite believe he was here. Living with me. Under my roof. I still couldn't believe he was mine! Mine to protect.
