Every Sunday, they cooked for six. It was tradition — roast chicken, mashed potatoes, her famous lemon pie. The children used to fight over the last slice. Now, the plates just waited.
The table was still set for six. Forks lined up. Napkins folded. Candles lit.
But only two chairs were filled.
The mother stirred the gravy, humming the same tune she used to sing when the house was full. The father poured wine into six glasses, out of habit. He looked at her and smiled. “Maybe they’ll come next week.” She nodded, though they both knew they wouldn’t.
The eldest had called last month — not to visit, but to ask for the silverware. “The new house needs something elegant,” he said. She gave it to him. Every spoon, every fork, every piece engraved with their initials.
Now they ate from paper plates. But she still folded napkins beside them, just to pretend.
The clock ticked. The food grew cold. Outside, laughter drifted from the neighbors’ house — young voices, clinking glasses, the sound of family.
She whispered, “Do you think they remember?” He took her hand. “They remember. They just forgot how to come home.”
When the candles burned down, she carried the leftovers to the fridge. He stayed at the table, staring at the empty chairs. The same chairs he built when the children were small. The same chairs that once held birthdays, arguments, and forgiveness.
He whispered, “We gave them everything.” She turned, her voice trembling. “And they took it all.”
Later that night, she found him sitting alone in the dark kitchen. The plates were gone. The table cleared. Only two cups of tea remained — one steaming, one untouched.
She sat beside him. He smiled faintly. “Dinner for two.” She nodded. “Dinner for always.”
They clinked their cups together — a quiet toast to love that outlasts disappointment. Outside, the rain began to fall, tapping softly against the window. Inside, their hands stayed intertwined, steady and warm.
And though the house was empty, it still felt full — because love, even when abandoned, still knows how to stay.
