ARYA

The air smelled of roasted herbs, jasmine, and pine. Of safety and of home. My husband was laughing.

He stood beneath the moonlight in his white button-down shirt, which was unbuttoned at the throat because Orion, our son, had yanked his collar down earlier, and his hair was pulled into that same messy bun he always wore lately.

Maya and Mason's backyard glowed as if there was some kind of magic in the air.

Maya was chasing Rose, Lia, and ...