The backyard glowed with the low, golden light of early evening. The storm had passed, leaving the air heavy but clean, scented with grass, earth, and smoke. A breeze tugged lazily at the string lights overhead, and the sizzle of meat on the grill punctuated the quiet hum of summer sounds: cicadas, laughter, and the soft pop of bubbles drifting through the air.
Amelia and Eliott darted barefoot across the lawn, chasing each other with bubble wands. Their shrieks of laughter rose and fell in waves, the kind of wild joy only kids could summon after two days away.
Sophia lounged nearby, one leg tucked under the other, glass of wine in hand and oversized sunglasses perched on her nose like a badge of authority. She looked like she belonged in a lifestyle magazine: poised, calm, dangerous.
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