The sky had deepened into a soft shade of violet by the time Daryl made it home. As he approached, the porch light flickered on, casting warm golden patches across the front steps.
He stood there momentarily, letting the cool evening air settle his nerves before finally opening the door.
Inside, the familiar scent of home — a mix of Marissa’s cooking and the faint trace of his father’s cologne — wrapped around him like a blanket.
The TV hummed softly from the living room, and Daryl spotted his father, Henry, reclining in his usual chair. The older man looked up as the door clicked shut, his face breaking into a wide, proud grin the second he saw his son.
“Well, look who’s back,” Henry said, setting down the remote. “How was it, Son? Your first full day as an officer?”
Daryl smiled,
