The soft hum of music drifted from the kitchen, mingling with the faint clatter of dishes and the sizzling of eggs.
Alice's voice floated through the air as she sang along to some bubbly pop tune from the speaker. She was barefoot, dancing lightly on her toes in front of the stove, spatula in one hand, flipping pancakes with surprising grace. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she was smiling like she hadn't cried the night before.
"I'm making breakfast again," she called out, loud enough for the living room. "You're not allowed to complain this time, okay?"
From where he sat, Travis could see her through the open doorway, hips swaying to the rhythm of the beat. The sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows made her glow in a way that twisted something warm in his chest.
"I never complained," he called back with a chuckle.
"You grimaced."
"I was reacting."
"To what?"
"To the kitchen fire you almost caused."
