A Small House Near Them
By autumn, Ethan had rented a modest house ten minutes from Lydia.
Not a mansion. Not a showcase. Just a warm three-bedroom home with a fenced backyard, a shelf full of children’s books, and a slightly crooked child lock beneath the kitchen sink.
The first time Miles and Nora visited, Miles inspected every room.
“Do you have cereal?”
“Three kinds,” Ethan replied.
“Do you know where the bandages are?”
Ethan opened the right drawer without hesitation.
Miles nodded.
“Good. You’re learning.”
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Nora darted into the guest room and gasped.
“There are sparkly pillows!”
Lydia stood at the doorway, observing the children moving through the house.
Ethan turned toward her.
“Is it too much?”
Her gaze drifted to the framed drawing on the wall, the stack of books, the small shoes by the entrance.
Then she shook her head.
“No. It feels like you thought about who they are.”
That meant more to Ethan than any recognition he had ever earned.
