By the time they piled into the car, every movement felt choreographed by exhaustion. Nate checked his phone for updates from Emberlight, then quietly passed around N95s. Nobody mentioned the house until it came into view again, blackened and gutted.
Colin stared for a long time before opening the car door. The sight of their ruined home pressed down on him all over again—a weight in his chest, sharp and cold. He took Joshua’s hand and held it tight. For now, it was all he could do just to take the next step.
They gathered in the backyard, under the cherry trees. David turned to Colin. “Graham just texted me. He’s been cleared to start. He and his crew are on their way—Emberlight should be here soon.”
Nate held his phone up in front of Colin’s face. It was a text from Trent which read: “On our way. Bringing doughnuts.”
Colin smiled, then bowed his head — a surge of almost overwhelming gratitude bringing tears to his eyes.
The low rumble of a diesel engine fractured the fragile peace. Colin peered through the soft orange canopy to see a truck parking in front of the house. Its side bore the elegant gold script of Emberlight Restorations above a line drawing of a phoenix rising from a swirl of smoke.
They all watched as the engine cut off and the doors opened. The first to step out was a woman in her late thirties, tall, with a no-nonsense ponytail and a clipboard already in hand. She wore dark jeans and a fitted black polo with the company’s logo stitched neatly over her heart.
She glanced up at the house and then at the group in the backyard. “Colin Campbell-Abrams?” she called, walking toward them with brisk efficiency.
Colin stepped forward and nodded. “That’s me.”
“I’m Mara Chen, team lead with Emberlight,” she said, offering her hand.
For a split second, Colin didn’t move. His legs suddenly felt heavy, as if his body was trying to anchor him in place. It wasn’t fear. His brain had frozen, mid-frame. After a beat, he shook himself, then stepped forward to shake her hand.
Her grip was firm but not aggressive. “Graham sent over a few photos. I’m sorry for what you’ve lost—but we’re here to help save what we can.”
Joshua limped over to stand beside him. Mara gave him a brief smile before glancing at her clipboard. “We’ve got three vans on the way with packing supplies, air scrubbers, and a textile containment unit. The full crew will be here within the hour. In the meantime, I’d like to do a walkthrough with one of you if you’re up to it.”
Joshua watched Mara, feeling a flicker of relief at her calm efficiency.
“I’ll go,” Colin said.
“No,” Joshua interrupted, touching his arm. “Let me. You’ve been carrying this for days. It’s my turn.” He kissed his husband’s cheek and murmured into his ear. “You want me strong, so let me be strong.” He kissed him again. “The task right in front of me.”
Colin smiled and touched his cheek. “OK, bud. If you need me–just holler.”
Mara reached into her satchel and pulled out a sealed package. “N95s and gloves. Put these on before we go in. And don’t worry—we won’t touch anything until we’ve cataloged everything in your presence. Our priority is preserving what matters most.”
Joshua took the gear and followed her inside, his shoulders squared but his hand trembling slightly as he fitted the mask over his face and followed Mara through the kitchen and into their living room.
As Joshua walked away, Colin swayed. Just slightly. His hand shot out and grabbed a branch of the nearest cherry tree, struggling for balance. A flicker of light danced in his vision—quick and sharp like the flash before the blast. He blinked it away with a soft moan.No! Not here.Then he made himself straighten, hoping no one noticed.
In the living room, Joshua forced himself to truly take in his surroundings. He stood before the ruined couch, touching the scorched fabric. This was where he’d curled in Colin’s lap after the bar exam, where Colin whispered, “You’re safe now,” as they watched their favorite shows. Now the cushions sagged, streaked with soot, one leg warped. It wasn’t just furniture. It had held them.
He drew in a shaky breath, and then his eyes drifted toward the nearby mantle, on the floor next to the fireplace, he spotted the cherished photo of his great-grandparents, Moisheand Chaya Friedman, who had died in the gas chambers of Treblinka. It was partially covered by soot, and Joshua’s heart sank, fearing it might not be salvageable.
He carefully lifted the blackened frame. Moishe and Chaya’s faces were still visible beneath the grime. Moishe’s expression— his look of quiet strength and resilience, the face so like his own—stared back at him, Chaya’s gentle countenance beside him. His breath caught in a sob, and he turned, holding the precious photo close as he moved to Mara’s side.
She was standing near the stairs, cataloging items with careful efficiency, but turned when he approached.
Joshua cleared his throat. “Mara, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
He hesitated briefly, then extended the picture. “This photo—my great-grandparents. They…” He paused, voice tightening. “They died in Treblinka. It’s precious to Colin and me. Can you save it?”
Mara’s eyes softened slightly, understanding instantly. She carefully took the frame from him, inspecting it, her gaze intent. “We’ve restored photos in worse shape. The soot doesn’t seem to have penetrated too deeply, and the glass protected it. I’m optimistic we can restore this. Or at least make it… better.” She looked into his face. “I’ll make sure it’s marked as a priority.”
Joshua exhaled slowly, a weight visibly lifted. “You have no idea what that means to us.”
Mara offered him a gentle smile. “I think perhaps I do.”
