The Last DinnerIt was supposed to be a normal family dinner. Roast chicken, loud chatter, and the faint scent of wine in the air. Just another Sunday in October, leaves crunching underfoot, air smelling of woodsmoke. A routine obligation: “Dinner at Mom’s – 6 PM.” But that night, ordinary turned impossible. Chloe’s EffortThe smell hit first—garlic, rosemary, and a faint burnt edge my mother would call “perfectly caramelized.” Voices echoed through the house, overlapping laughter and silverware clinks. Evan squeezed my hand on the porch. “Ready?” “As I’ll ever be,” I said—our code for “I wish we were anywhere else.”...
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