The Taste of Normalcy, Soured

ROMAN

I couldn't remember the last time I felt this relaxed in a restaurant. Fabian's infectious laughter filled the intimate space of Nonna Sofia's as he tried to wrap his small mouth around a forkful of spaghetti. Tomato sauce splattered his chin, and Vanessa leaned over with a napkin, dabbing at his face with practiced efficiency.

"Dad, you have to try this!" Fabian exclaimed, pointing enthusiastically at his plate. "It's better than the pasta at the pack house!"

"Is that so?" I raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Should I fire our chef?"

"No!" Fabian giggled. "But maybe she could get the recipe."

I caught Vanessa's eye across the table, and something warm unfurled in my chest when she smiled. Not the guarded smile she used to give me, but something genuine that reached her eyes. Progress. After everything we'd been through, we were finally making real progress.