“She’s always up to something,” I tell Dario.
He chuckles. “She’s the last of the sisters to marry,” I tell him thoughtfully.
“And that might happen sooner than later,” he responds.
“Oh, she’ll be such a beautiful bride,” I say wistfully, while a part of me mourns the loss of her freedom. I sigh. It happens to all of us.
We head to the second guard who does our second security check, then sends us off with a nod.
“Welcome home,” he says. “Both of you.”
I smile, leaning my head on Dario’s shoulder as we park the car.
Welcome home, I think to myself.
My home is wherever I’m by his side.
* * *