And now it had.
Luna smiled into the darkness, the expression feeling strange on her face after so many months of careful neutrality. She was returning. Not because she was broken, not because she was escaping, not because she had no other choice. She was returning because she was whole. Because she had chosen. Because the fire that Dayo had helped her discover all those years ago had never actually gone out—it had simply banked itself, waiting for air, waiting for permission, waiting for her to be ready.
A sound from the baby monitor interrupted her reverie, a small rustling that quickly escalated into the unmistakable noises of Jennifer waking. Luna slipped out of bed before the sounds could become cries, before Dayo could be disturbed, her bare feet silent against the cool floor. She moved through the darkened hallway with the practiced ease of motherhood, her body knowing this route even when her mind was elsewhere.
