Sally's POV
The walk home passes in a blur of confusion and racing thoughts.
Karl had pointed out woodland creatures to Warren during our trek back, showing him rabbit holes and warning him away from dangerous mushrooms. My son chattered endlessly about bath toys and how many toy trucks could fit in his tiny backpack. I caught maybe half their conversation because my mind was trapped somewhere else entirely.
Somewhere between Philip and Ajax, replaying that moment when Ajax tilted his face toward the sun and accepted Philip's kiss like it was oxygen itself.
I force down the knot forming in my throat as we approach my front door. The house appears unchanged, small and cozy and familiar, yet today it feels more like a prison than a sanctuary.
Warren rushes inside the moment I turn the key, kicking off his shoes and shouting over his shoulder about retrieving his red truck. Karl follows with an amused chuckle while I lag behind, my steps heavy and uncertain.
