The three of them stood awkwardly. My son rubbed the back of his neck. “We were thinking… maybe you could come home. We could make room.”

I held his gaze. Steady. Quiet.

Then I said: “No.”

Not angry. Not bitter.

Just sure.

“This is my home now.”

That evening, after the last customer left, I sat under the soft glow of lanterns strung above the patio. I watched the stars ripple in the river below.