"Home didn't always feel like a place. Sometimes, it felt like a stranger holding the door open."
The car rolled to a slow stop in front of a white two-storey house, tucked between tall hedges and a gate that creaked slightly as it opened. The porch light was on — soft and golden — spilling across the driveway like it had been waiting for me.
I didn't move immediately. Just stared at the house, wondering how many times I'd imagined this moment. Coming here. Starting over. Pretending I was fine.
Rayen killed the engine. "You okay?"
I nodded, even though I wasn't sure. "Yeah. Just… taking a second."
He didn't press. Just opened his door and stepped out, the car lights catching in his eyes for a split second before he moved to grab my bag from the trunk.
I followed him up the steps, the wheels of my suitcase thudding softly behind me. The door swung open before either of us could knock.
"Elara!" my sister's voice was bright, too bright, like she was trying to wrap the past year up in a single smile. She pulled me into a hug, tight and warm, and for a second I let myself melt into it.
"Hey," I whispered, my voice catching.
She pulled back to look at me. "You look tired. Come in. You must be starving."
I stepped inside, the house smelling like cinnamon and new beginnings. Rayen walked past us with my bag, disappearing down the hallway without a word.
"Ray's not much of a talker," she said, noticing my gaze. "But he's… good. In his own weird way."
I nodded.
I wasn't sure if "good" was the right word for him.
But I already knew boring wasn't.