"Smells as good as ever, Mom," Felix said as he stepped into the warm kitchen, inhaling the mouthwatering aroma of roasted garlic, herbed chicken, and something buttery and sinful baking in the oven.
Victoria turned from the stove, beaming at him. She still wore her pearl earrings—always the pearls—and a soft cashmere cardigan over a pressed blouse. "Of course it does. I don't disappoint," she replied, lifting an arched brow.
Felix chuckled, stepping forward to press a kiss to her cheek. "You never do."
He could still hear her voice from earlier that afternoon, light and charming yet unyielding—the way it always was when she was serious about something. "Come home for dinner tonight. Your father misses you." She didn't even wait for a full response before walking away. But Felix didn't mind. He was more than happy to make the time. There was a comfort in this house that he'd never quite outgrown.
