I spent the entire day in the kitchen because it was the only place where my thoughts could quiet. I worked steadily, letting my hands take the lead while my heart tried to settle itself. I roasted tomatoes in the oven until their skins wrinkled and the fragrance filled the room. I browned lamb bones in a large pot, letting the fat sizzle and deepen the flavor before filling the pot with broth. The slow simmer felt grounding. I sautéed onions and garlic until soft and golden, stirred in rosemary and thyme, and blended the tomatoes into a smooth, red base that smelled warm and comforting.
Mae helped where she could, though most of the time she simply watched, wide eyed, as each dish came together. By the time I finished, the kitchen was filled with the scent of roasted herbs and simmered b
