The dining table was set neatly — water glasses filled, napkins folded with precision.
Their mother had outdone herself again grilled chicken with herbs, soft rice, vegetable stew steaming gently in a ceramic bowl, and fresh bread in a basket lined with cloth.
Billy sat across from Mr. Sandoval, with Camila at the side, already picking at the bread.
"Did you taste the sauce?" Camila said, eyes wide as she spooned some onto her plate. "Mom went full chef mode today. Said she wanted it to feel like a welcome back feast."
Billy gave a soft smile.
"She succeeded."
Mr. Sandoval cut into his chicken with surgical precision.
"Food is only as good as the conversation it accompanies."
"Then this meal's about to be five stars," Camila said, winking.
Billy glanced between them, amused and quietly observing. It wasn't awkward, just... unfamiliar.
The sounds of forks against ceramic filled the silence for a beat. Then Camila leaned over.
