Leon Kennedy

Chapter XXXII

The hours stretched lazily as the afternoon sunlight began to lean toward evening, pooling in honeyed streaks across the kitchen counters and the dining table. Ada's door remained closed, the faint click of its lock a quiet reminder of her absence. Leon had checked once or twice, curious but not intrusive. She had warned them not to disturb her unless it was urgent, and the twins, obedient as always, respected that boundary.

"Looks like we're on our own for dinner," Leon said, sliding the fridge open. The smell of lingering bread and fruit from lunch still hung in the air, mingling faintly with the aroma of cooked chicken that he decided to repurpose.

Leona bounced on the balls of her feet, already chattering. "Ooh! Can I stir the sauce? Please? I promise I won't spill!"

Adam, more measured, set the cutting board carefully on the counter. "Maybe I should chop the vegetables while you—uh, stir. That way, it's organized."

Leon smiled at their eagerness. "Alright, team. You two are officially my sous-chefs. Let's see what we can whip up."

The kitchen became a warm flurry of motion. Leon chopped, stirred, and sautéed, while Leona jabbered endlessly about a girl in her class who had brought in a new puppy. Her words tumbled out so fast he could barely keep up, but he laughed, shaking his head as he stirred the sauce. Adam, for his part, offered careful advice to Leona, encouraging patience and suggesting how to phrase her story so it would make sense, his calm, mature tone grounding her endless chatter. Leon found himself quietly agreeing with Adam more than once, impressed by the boy's thoughtful logic.

"You know," Leon said, glancing at Adam, "I think you've got a point. Maybe don't start the story with the puppy jumping on everyone."

Adam smiled faintly, pleased. "Exactly. People remember the punchline, not the setup."

Meanwhile, Leona pouted slightly, feigning offense but still grinning. "You're no fun, Daddy!"

Leon chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm just practical. Somebody has to keep things from becoming... catastrophic."

The three of them worked together, the rhythm of cooking forming a quiet harmony in the kitchen. Leon was mindful of Ada's absence, but the warmth of this domestic bubble kept his thoughts from straying into worry. The twins laughed, argued, and teased each other gently, the kind of natural energy that made the home feel alive.

Finally, they plated the meal. Steam curled from the dishes, a savory scent that filled the room. Leon served the food onto the table, while Adam and Leona carefully added the finishing touches: a sprinkle of herbs here, a neatly folded napkin there.

As they ate, the conversation continued, light and easy. Leona continued to narrate her class stories, occasionally breaking off to ask Leon for his thoughts. Adam provided his calm commentary, giving Leona strategies for diplomacy with her classmates, and Leon found himself caught between amusement and admiration for the children's intelligence and personality.

"You're learning fast," he said to Adam. "I almost feel like I should take notes from you."

Adam smirked faintly. "It's about observing first, then reacting. Works for life... and maybe school."

Leona rolled her eyes dramatically. "You're no fun!" she said again, but it was playful, affectionate.

After the meal, they cleaned up together. Leon handled the washing, letting the warm water run over his hands, while the twins dried and put away the utensils, occasionally giggling at small splashes or teasing each other when a fork clattered slightly. Even in Ada's absence, the home felt alive, filled with little joys and the steady rhythm of family life.