The car pulled into the drive as the afternoon light began its slow turn toward evening.
Arianne stepped out first. Leo followed, the whale still tucked under his arm, his eyes heavy from the long day.
He was tired. But his shoulders were looser than they'd been that morning. His jaw wasn't clenched. When he walked through the front door, he didn't retreat behind Arianne's hip the way he had in the therapist's waiting room.
The house was quiet. Cartoons murmured from the sitting room — the rabbit and the turtle on another adventure. Lily was on the couch. She'd been there most of the day, Franz had texted. Pancakes, then the piano room, then nothing that stuck. She'd been waiting.
She looked up when she heard the door.
Leo stood in the hallway. The whale was under his arm. His face was still tired, still carrying the residue of everything that had happened since last night. But he looked at Lily.
She looked back.
