The drive to his parents’ house took less than an hour, but for Daniel, every turn of the wheel felt like traveling backward through time.
The sun was dipping low behind the hills, painting the sky in slow shades of gold and amber. Isabella sang softly in the back seat — her little voice filling the silence that might have otherwise been unbearable.
“Daddy, when we get there, do you think Grandma made cookies again?” she asked between verses.
Daniel smiled through the rearview mirror. “You know your Grandma. She never lets us visit without baking something sweet.”
“She makes the best ones,” Isabella said proudly. “Better than anyone!”
He laughed. “Better than Daddy’s?”
“Way better,” she said with mock seriousness. “Yours always come out… funny.”
He laughed again — really laughed thi
