Cairo was still standing in front of me, his small brows drawn together in that familiar thoughtful expression that made him look older than he was.
"If he's not related to us… why does it feel like he is?" he repeated softly.
I swallowed.
God, how was I supposed to answer that?
I forced a small smile, reaching out to smooth his hair. "Sometimes people just… feel familiar," I said carefully. "It doesn't always mean something deeper."
That sounded weak even to my own ears.
Cairo didn't argue, but I could tell he wasn't convinced. His gaze drifted toward the door, lingering there as if he expected it to open again at any second.
"…He didn't feel like a stranger to me though.." he muttered.
My chest tightened.
Before I could respond, Egypt suddenly popped her head out from the kitchen.
"Mom! Paris is being bossy again!" she complained loudly. "She said I'm washing the plates wrong!"
