He turned away quickly, stepping back into the hallway, his hand pressed to his mouth.
He was crying.
The man who had negotiated billion-dollar deals without blinking was standing in his own hallway, undone by a song and two laughing children.
A few minutes later, he composed himself and walked back in.
Elena noticed him first.
Her face drained of color.
“Oh—Mr. Wright—I—I didn’t hear you come in,” she stammered, setting the microphone down. “I hope I didn’t overstep. The children were restless after their lessons, and I thought—”
Nathaniel raised a hand gently.
The twins ran to him.
“Daddy! Did you hear us?” Sophie asked, grabbing his leg.
“Miss Elena sings like a star!” Oliver added. “She says she used to sing on stages!”
Nathaniel looked down at them, then back at Elena.
“Is that true?” he asked quietly.
Elena swallowed. “I… yes. Before.”
Before what?
Before life took something away, he wondered.
“I didn’t mean to turn the house into a concert hall,” she added nervously. “If you’d prefer quieter activities, I understand.”
Nathaniel shook his head slowly.
“No,” he said. “Please. Continue.”
Elena blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“I said,” his voice wavered slightly, “please continue doing whatever it is you’re doing.”
The twins cheered again.
Elena smiled—but there was something cautious in her eyes, like someone who had learned not to hope too quickly.
That evening, Nathaniel stayed for dinner.
Not at the head of the table with his phone. But beside his children.
Elena served the meal, chatting easily with the twins, coaxing them to eat their vegetables by turning it into a game.
“You know,” Sophie said suddenly, “Miss Elena says dinner can be a song too.”
Elena laughed. “Only if Daddy approves.”
