“Can we come in?” Dad asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard.

I stepped aside, allowing them entry. They looked around, taking in the simplicity and comfort of my space. Mom perched on the edge of my couch, fiddling with her hands. “We’ve been thinking,” she started, “about how things ended. We might have acted too quickly, and we miss having you around.”

I nodded, letting them speak. “We’re in a bit of a bind,” Dad admitted. “We were wondering if there’s a chance we could stay with you, just until we figure things out.”