The silence in the visiting lounge felt different today. It wasn't the heavy, suffocating silence of a cell; it was the quiet of a house after a storm has passed. I looked at Jason, and for a moment, the sterile walls of the facility seemed to dissolve. I wanted my own bed. I wanted the familiar scent of our home, even if the memories attached to it felt like they belonged to a stranger.
"I think I’m ready to come home," I said. My voice was steady, surprising even me.
Jason’s eyes searched mine, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face before it was replaced by a look of intense, protective devotion. "Then let’s get you home, Sarah. Right now."
He didn't waste a second. He flagged down the nurse at the station, his voice regaining that authoritative edge I vaguely remembered him
