I turned the SUV down the narrow dirt road that led to Maren’s cottage.

The yellow light from her kitchen window shone through the dark pine trees.

It was the first time in years I felt a sense of peace approaching a house.

I parked the car and walked up the gravel path, my boots sinking into the wet mud.

The front door opened before I could knock.

Maren stood there, holding a dish towel, her face soft in the warm light.

“Is it done?” she asked.

“It’s done,” I said.

I stepped inside, pulling off my wet coat.

The house smelled of woodsmoke and vegetable soup.

From the living room, I heard the sound of a television, the quiet chatter of a cartoon.

Noah and Lila were sitting on the rug, surrounded by drawing paper.

Noah looked up as I entered, his green eyes cautious but curious.

“Did you win the business meeting, Dad?” he asked.

The word “Dad” felt heavy and strange in my ears.

“I did,” I said, walking over and sitting on the edge of the sofa near them.