"They're not my family," Lia whispered one night.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The rain hammered the roof. Then, slowly, Rafa’s shoulders slumped. He sank to the floor, and Mateo knelt beside him. Lia hesitated, then sat down on the step above them. She didn't touch him. She didn't offer comfort. She just sat there, a witness.

She was still a planet. But she was no longer alone in her orbit.

More. That was one word for it.

Shouts. Rafa's voice, raw and cracked. Then Mateo's, lower, urgent.

"Community dinner is Sunday," Lia said quietly. "I'll make the salad."