“My mom’s working.”
“Where?”
Ethan shrugged. “Everywhere.”
The answer was simple. Practiced.
Lily tilted her head, studying his face closely.
“You have my nose,” she said suddenly. “And you do that thing with your mouth when you’re thinking.”
Ethan frowned. “I don’t.”
“You just did.”
A man in a blazer approached, clearly uncomfortable.
“Sir, this isn’t really—”
“It’s fine,” Nathan said firmly, without looking up.
The man stepped back immediately.
Nathan returned his attention to the boy.
“Have you been here long?”
“A while.”
“Are you hungry?”
A pause.
Then a small nod.
Lily immediately dug into her tiny purse and pulled out a snack bar.
“Here,” she said, handing it over. “I don’t even like this flavor.”
Ethan accepted it carefully, unwrapping it with slow, deliberate movements—like someone used to making things last.
Nathan felt a flicker of memory.
Himself, at that age.
Learning not to ask for seconds.
He pushed the thought away.
“Where do you live?” Nathan asked.
“Close.”
