Feels Like Home Book Novels & Stories

But she was in the house just mumbling. Just your kind of fun. No time does not pass that you are not happy. You feel that you are free. Everything you can do. But once I thought why am I just like this, you homeless... you feel that you are alone. There is no freedom. It's good that the birds are free to fly anywhere they want. But for me? Here's to stock at home. Doing nothing reading a book.. watching TV, lying down, using your cellphone.. you don't realize you're getting old when you're at home.. all day.

But this time—it didn’t feel cursed. It felt like home.

He told me as he held it out for me to take. “Emma Fennelly!” I spoke aloud as I read the neat black ink on the front of the book. “I can read this?” “You can read whatever book in here you want. I know you miss your life at home, and I know you must miss your parents terribly and that none of this was of your asking or doing, but while you are here, just think of it as your new home away from home. So, you can come in here and read whenever you like. Apart from the bedrooms of others, the rest of this place is yours just as much as it is theirs”.

The people who gave a lost terrified girl roots when she'd spent her entire life drifting. By the time I reached the penthouse, nostalgia and heartbreak tangled together so tightly I couldn't separate them. The city lights glittered beyond the windows. Beautiful. Cold. Familiar. But for the first time since moving in...I realised it had never felt like a home. I had always felt like a temporary visitor. And maybe that was a good thing. Because home wasn't a place, it was a feeling. And no one was waiting for me here, not in this cold empty Penthouse. Home was waiting somewhere else.

I set an early alarm, which I rarely did, and went to sleep. --- The next day came like a flash. Celeste was extraordinary, and there were moments in that room, moments I had not planned for and could not have anticipated, when I understood for the first time what people meant when they said someone made them feel at home. Not the building. Not the location. The person. I had not felt at home anywhere since I was fourteen years old. I left before I could think too carefully about what that meant. When Sparrow pulled the car away from the gate, I looked back at the house through the tinted window.

I was the wife of the man who owned this house, yet I felt like a ghost haunting its halls. I turned back to the door. It felt like a boundary line. Everything in this house was a boundary. The way Gideon looked past me at dinner. The way Helena spoke as if I weren't in the room. Even the locked doors were reminders that I was an outsider, a temporary fixture in a permanent world. I walked to the library instead. It was a two-story room filled with thousands of books. The smell of old paper and leather was the first thing that felt welcoming. I pulled a book from the shelf—a thick volume on maritime law—and sat in a velvet armchair by the window.

"This is the first time in longer than I can remember that I've felt like I'm simply, entirely, at home. Not managing anything. Not holding anything together. Just here, in a space that's actually mine, with someone I actually chose." She leaned into him, his arm coming around her easily, and they stood together for a while longer, looking at the bookshelves and the leather chair and the whole small, ordinary shape of the life they'd just begun building together, no crisis pulling at the edges of it, nothing to manage or fix or hold steady against. Just two people, and a home, and the quiet, complete satisfaction of finally, fully, arriving somewhere that felt like it was built to last.

He approached joy with the same intensity he brought to everything else, and somehow that made it impossible to resist. The strangest part of it all was my own mind. I caught myself looking around his massive, dark-paneled house the other night and thinking the word ‘home’. It surprised me, hitting like a sudden splash of cold water, but the longer I sat with the thought, the more completely natural it felt. The house had stopped feeling like his space that I occupied and started feeling like ‘ours’.

The dining hall was grand, with long tables set for a feast, and I knew, without a doubt, that my babies and I were finally home, and best of all we had our mate and chosen family with us here. ____________________ This book is the property of Ulliend Musings and its brand. It is only to be promoted or disturbed by approved formats such as Goodnovel and KindleVella.

Because for the first time in a while , I didn’t feel like caged. I felt at home.