Sunday mornings in that house were loud. Too loud for someone like me. After breakfast, the house seemed to come alive with energy. Everyone gathered in the living room, cups of tea in hand, cushions pulled closer, their voices bouncing off the walls as if they couldn't contain their laughter. The sunlight streamed in through the big windows, casting a warm glow on everything. It all felt so easy, so domestic, like this was how things were meant to be—like they had always been this way.