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Behind the counter, sizzling came from the kitchen, where Mr and Mrs Wú had fired up the portable gas burners they’d sourced to keep helping people. Steam rose from a pot, and a spicy scent wafted toward me as I waited near the doorway.

My mouth had been watering the entire time they were cooking, and my stomach growled so loud that Ava smiled.

“Sit with us,” Kirby said. She and Ava shuffled down to the far end of the booth. “They won’t let you help. Might as well get comfortable.”

The two of them sat opposite each other in the booth closest to the kitchen, while Pearl moved around the restaurant floor, sniffing every doorway and corner.

I slid in on Ava’s side, the seat creaking under me.

When my thigh pressed against hers, my first instinct was to pull away and leave a buffer between us, but I didn’t move.

“I still can’t believe it.” Kirby’s gaze jumped to her parents in the kitchen, then back to us. “I didn’t want to hope too much, you know? I’ve been trying not to think about it at all.”

Ava knew firsthand what Kirby had been going through. She smiled. “Now you’re here. Everyone’s safe—and your parents… God, the look on their faces when they saw you.”

“I know.” Kirby’s eyes shone, and she blinked a few times.

“You look different,” I said. During all the time we’d been on the road, I’d only known the Kirby who had to deal with infected and death, but she seemed younger now. Lighter.

“Must be the relief.”

A short while later, her parents came out carrying steaming bowls and set them on the table in front of us.

Mrs Wú took the spot beside her daughter, and Mr Wú brought a chair over from a nearby table, setting up a place for himself at the end of the booth.

He shared an affectionate smile with his wife, then caught me watching and nodded at my bowl. “You eat.”

They’d made noodles in a spicy broth, with vegetables and some type of meat so tender it fell apart on my tongue. Once I had my first bite, I went straight back for another.

Kirby dived in with her chopsticks, moaning around the first mouthful. “Oh my God,” she said, “I’ve missed your food so much.”

“Not me. Just the food,” her mother said.

Ava smiled and dug in, lifting the first forkful to her mouth.

As we emptied our bowls, the conversation flowed easily between us. Kirby spoke fast, catching her parents up on all that had happened on the journey south, and they peppered her with questions.

When Mrs Wú offered more noodles, Ava glanced at the clock before nodding and thanking her.

I’d never had this growing up. A family around a table. Laughter and warmth.

Ava’s leg stayed pressed against mine throughout the meal, a steady reminder that she was here. For now.

As she scooped up another loaded fork, her hand slipped under the table, and the backs of her fingers brushed against my thigh. I froze and waited to see if it was an accident, but her hand moved over my knee.

I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be touched without it meaning danger or loss. I let out a slow breath, caught between pulling away and leaning closer.

“Hey.” Kirby’s voice broke through the fog. “You okay?”

I nodded as she watched me from across the table, head tilted slightly.

“Are you sure?” she asked as her parents exchanged a few quiet words in Mandarin. “You look weird.”

“That’s just my face.” I smiled to take the edge off. “I’m good.”

She paused for a beat, and just when I thought she might push for an explanation, Kirby went back to eating.

Ava didn’t say a word, but her hand curled more tightly around my knee, and she held on as if she didn’t want to let go.