The late afternoon sun hangs low over the streets of Chicago, casting long shadows across the cobblestone sidewalks. The clatter of James' polished shoes leads the way as he shoulders his satchel, the familiar weight of responsibility settling over him like a well-worn coat. Behind him, Henry walks more carefully, adjusting his cap and straightening his tie as he keeps an eye on Thomas, who zigzags between cracks in the pavement, flicking pebbles.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, Tommy!" Jimmy calls, his voice carrying the perfect mix of exasperation and amusement. "You're gonna get yourself flattened before we even reach home!"

Thomas stops mid-hop, grinning mischievously, "Flattened? That's a bit dramatic, don't you think, Jimmy?" He spins around, kicking at a leaf in mock rebellion.

Henry chuckles softly, shaking his head. "You two never change, do you?" He tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear, his calm eyes scanning the streets before settling on the familiar brick walls of their home. "Come on, the sooner we get inside, the sooner Ma can yell at Jimmy for scaring the neighbors with his theatrics."

The three of them round the corner, the mansion's wrought-iron gates coming into view, gleaming faintly in the sunlight. Their voices echo through the grand hall, high and cheerful, bouncing off the polished wood floors and crystal chandeliers as they scatter across the foyer in their usual rhythm: Thomas darting toward the study, James moving to drop the mail and glance at the ledger their father keeps on his desk, and Henry pausing near the stairs to watch his brothers, already thinking two steps ahead about homework, errands, and the small adventures that always seem to follow them home.