Callum bounced along, his small hand firmly gripping his dad's on the left and his mom's on the right. A grin lit up his face like a Christmas tree; this was the first time he had held both his parents' hands together, and the joy was palpable.
Upon they reached Ronan’s grandpa's house, Janice could be heard bustling in the kitchen. The clatter of pots and pans was her primary form of communication. She didn't need words to express her disapproval of Cordelia, who felt the weight of unspoken reproach and a burning desire to leave as soon as decently possible.
"Mom, you should take a shower; you're all wet," Callum reminded Cordelia, concern lacing his voice.
Ronan lounged on the couch, engrossed in a book, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.
In the kitchen, Janice continued her culinary endeavors in silence.
The mention of a shower made Cordelia aware of the uncomfortable dampness clinging to her back. The snow from earlier had melted, trickling down to her waist in an icy stream.
"But I don’t have any clothes to change into," Cordelia mentioned, a hint of hesitation in her voice.
"I think there are some," Callum said, darting off to his dad's room in search of garments.
"Mom, look, there's a whole closet full of clothes, and they're all yours," Callum exclaimed, flinging open the wardrobe doors.
Cordelia was unsure when Ronan had prepared such an assortment. Whether they were indeed hers, she didn't know, but they would fit.
Her emotions churned, yet Callum's eagerness made it impossible for Cordelia to refuse his suggestion to shower in his dad's bedroom.
"Mom, Dad's reading in the living room, and Janice is cooking. It'd be awkward to shower elsewhere. I'll close the door for you," Callum said thoughtfully, every bit the considerate son.
Cordelia ruffled his hair affectionately. "Be good, sweetie."
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