The afternoon sun, though warm, did little to thaw the emotional frost gripping Amelia. The expanse of the lawn felt enormous and soothing under her feet, a necessary canvas for her emotionally distributed state. She sought the indifferent comfort of nature—the drone of crickets, the scent of cut grass—anything to drown out the internal monologue about her new reality: being the wife of Austin, and thus, the unwelcome presence in his former life.
Her fragile peace shattered with a sharp, high-pitched sound: a boy screaming. It wasn't a cry of pain, but the unrestrained, joyful exuberance of a game gone right or wrong. Following the sound, she saw him—a whirlwind of bright yellow shirts and mud-stained knees—Ethan. Austin’s son.
A sudden, paralyzing awkwardness seized Amelia. Her mind
