The sky was beginning to turn orange.
Cars moved along the quiet suburban street.
A woman walked past with a dog.
A delivery van stopped two houses away.
The ordinary world continued.
Richard found that almost unbearable.
Inside, his children were sitting at the dining table.
Ethan was drinking water.
Maya held a cool compress against her cheek.
Laura's letter rested nearby in a transparent document sleeve Richard had found in his office.
He knew he needed to protect it.
But before doing anything more, he went into the kitchen.
Opened the refrigerator.
And stared.
He had no idea what his children wanted for dinner.
Nicole usually arranged the meals.
Or ordered takeout.
Or told the children to prepare something themselves.
Richard knew their favorite foods from years earlier.
Maya once loved homemade macaroni and cheese.
Ethan liked grilled chicken and mashed potatoes.
But he did not know whether those preferences had changed.
He stood with the refrigerator door open until Maya appeared behind him.
"Dad?"
He turned.
She looked at the shelves.
"What are you doing?"
He gave a tired smile.
"Trying to make dinner."
She stared.
Then laughed unexpectedly.
Richard looked embarrassed.
"What's funny?"
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Maya."
She laughed again.
"You look like the refrigerator is asking you a difficult question."
Richard glanced toward the food.
"Feels like it."
For a moment, Maya smiled.
A real smile.
Then she looked at her father.
"There's chicken in the bottom drawer."
He nodded.
"Okay."
"And potatoes."
"Right."
She hesitated.
"Mom used to make them with garlic."
Richard stopped moving.
The memory returned immediately.
Laura standing beside the stove.
A wooden spoon in her hand.
Ethan sitting in a high chair.
Maya stealing pieces of roasted potato from the serving dish.
Richard felt tears gather.
He looked toward his daughter.
"Would you help me?"
Maya studied him.
For a moment, he feared she would refuse.
Then she nodded.
"Sure."
They cooked together.
Richard burned the first batch of garlic.
Maya laughed.
Ethan came into the kitchen and insisted that he knew a better way to mash potatoes because he had watched a cooking video.
They let him try.
He added too much milk.
Maya rescued the mixture with more potatoes.
Richard accidentally dropped a spoon.
And when they finally sat at the table, dinner was not perfect.
The chicken was slightly dry.
The potatoes were softer than intended.
The vegetables needed more salt.
But nobody criticized anyone.
Nobody accused Maya of being ungrateful.
Nobody told Ethan to stop talking about his mother.
And when Ethan mentioned that Laura used to make little faces out of vegetables on his plate, Richard smiled.
"She did."
The boy looked surprised.