Luke opened the door to Mirela's house, and the warmth of the small home enveloped him. The scent of vegetables stewing filled the air, carrying a sense of comfort that felt almost surreal after the strange, heavy day he'd had. His eyes found Ilyrana in the kitchen, standing by Mirela, who was busy stirring a pot. Ilyrana, silent but attentive, handed her the ingredients as Mirela instructed.
"Welcome back, dear," Mirela said, her voice kind and bright.
She barely glanced his way as she focused on the task in front of her, but her words were genuine, full of a warmth that almost seemed to pierce through the wall Luke had unconsciously begun to build.
"We're just about to finish up with dinner. It won't be long now," the old woman continued.
