Chapter 1: The Weight of Home
The hum of Terminal B slowly faded behind them, replaced by the rhythmic swish of windshield wipers against the windshield of their worn sedan. Daniel sat in the passenger seat, his heavy combat boots planted firmly on the floor mat. In the back, little Maya was already fast asleep, clutching the yellow ribbon Clara had tied to her car seat.
Daniel looked down at his trembling hands. For ten months in an arid valley overseas, survival had been reduced to a simple equation of split-second reflexes and hyper-vigilance. Now, the soft scent of Clara’s vanilla lotion felt foreign, almost suffocating.
“You’re really back, Dan,” Clara whispered, resting a hand over his knuckles at a red light.
He managed a tight nod, but his gaze remained locked on the side mirror, tracking the headlights of the car behind them out of sheer instinct. "Doesn't feel real yet," he murmured.
May you like
They pulled into their small suburban driveway. The porch light cast a golden circle across the lawn. Everything was exactly as he had left it, yet Daniel felt like an intruder entering someone else’s life. When he stepped over the threshold, his duffel bag hit the hardwood with a hollow thud that echoed straight into his chest.
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