Marco

I'm amazed at how much progress my parents and I have made. Visiting them frequently and vice versa without anyone bickering. Valentina and mother's laughter erupts from the kitchen filling the entire place as they organize lunch.

“Marco, how has business been going?” Father asks, stretching a plate towards me.

“It's been good, and how are you adjusting to your new line of business?”

“Adjusting fine. Never knew I could do so well in supervising building projects. I'm taking that class you recommended.”

“That's beautiful.”

“Enough of business talks,” Mother announces, walking in with Valentina as they set the rest of the food on the table.

“This smells so heavenly,” Father compliments, and I nod in agreement.

“I can't take all the credit, your wife also assisted.”

“Thank you both.”

As we dish our food, I notice Valentina dishing a smaller portion of what she would normally eat, an occurrence that's been consistent for the past two weeks now. Also, lately, she has been easily irritated