“Akoma” spelled in filigree, attached to a key charm. “A key?” I asked. He smiled. “To my chest. Just in case you ever forget again where you live.” I pressed my forehead to his and closed my eyes. “I could never forget.” He kissed me then. Soft. Full. A kiss not for show. Not for ritual. But for love. For home. For every step that led us back to where it all began. And under the stars, wrapped in salt wind and Kente, we began again.
