Gemotions

The scent of roasting chicken filled the air, a familiar and comforting aroma that always signaled Sunday dinner at Mom and Dad’s. Liam hummed as he set the table, his shoulders loose, his movements easy. He was helping, actually *wanting* to help, something that hadn’t been a regular occurrence in his own, now empty, apartment. He grinned at his reflection in the polished silverware, catching a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

He heard his mother’s lilting laughter from the kitchen, and a wave of warmth washed over him. He’d missed this: the simple, predictable rhythm of family life. He’d missed her cooking, even if it meant a lecture about eating his vegetables.

The front door opened, and his father walked in, a newspaper tucked under his arm. “Smells good, Liam,” he said, his voice rumbly with affection. He didn't even mention the fact Liam was living at home again. Liam smiled back, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. This felt…right.