Going Home Novel Novels & Stories

He knew better. “Where to now?” he asked instead. I considered it. There were a dozen fires still smoldering: my father’s theft, the board’s displeasure, the operational headaches Vanessa’s lies had created. But none of them mattered as much as getting back to the only place I’d ever really belonged. “Home,” I said quietly. He inclined his head and opened the door. I climbed in, settling my cane across my lap as Paolo circled back to the driver’s seat.

The characters were still there, the drama still existed, but it was no longer mine to inhabit. I looked at the stone in my hand, then out at the horizon. The ice was gone. The road was open. And for the first time in my life, I knew exactly where I was going: back inside, to the warmth of the fire, to the house that was finally, unequivocally, home. We had thawed out, and like the earth beneath the snow, we were ready to bloom.

Ella’s POV The London fog didn't just sit outside the bookstore; it seemed to have seeped into my very marrow. Isadora Blackwood stood there, a specter of a life I had amputated without anesthesia, her eyes reflecting the same storm-tossed grey as the Thames. "I’m not going back, Isadora," I said, my voice as flat and cold as the coins in the register. "There is no 'home' to go back to. There is a mausoleum filled with people who share a name. That’s it."

' They'll wish we'd taken them out with a single bullet. I returned his smile, pulled my child closer, and walked back to the comfort of our home. It was not long before Derick and Jasmine were locked away. With the White family's 'special care,' their time in the slammer was a living nightmare. By the time Ayden turned 10 years old, the worn-out pair was released. Derick's first move as a free man was to divorce Jasmine and try to track down Ayden and me. Little did he know that I had taken Ayden and left for foreign shores a decade ago, back to the stronghold of our family.

Then he nodded to the guard manning the gate mechanism and the gate opened. As we drove through the gates I was struck by the beauty of home. There was a pain in my heart as I stared at the artistry of nature and the welcoming village nestled at its center. Maisey placed a hand on my shoulder from where she sat and asked, “Are you okay, Nikki?” I nodded and a single tear slid down my face. I wasn’t sad really, it was as if a missing piece of me snapped into place. “I’m home,” I whispered, my heart full of a million different emotions. I turned towards Callum and said, “Can you take us to K&T please? That’s the first piece of home I need to connect with.” Callum nodded and drove in the direct

I know the difference between a feeling and a choice and I have practiced the difference until it is mine to keep. Ready meant: I can go home. "Yes," I said. "Good," she said. We said goodbye. I boarded the plane. Found my window seat. Watched Sydney fall away beneath the clouds. Then I faced forward. New York was twenty-two hours ahead. The recipe notebooks were full. Jade was getting married. The bakeries were waiting. Dorothy had apparently put me in the Sydney Opera House. I was going home. Actually ready. Actually going home.

Two days before New Year's Eve, I was finally discharged from the hospital. The moment I got home, a wave of familiar, comforting warmth washed over me. The house had been thoroughly cleaned. The carpet Linda had ruined was gone, replaced with a new one. Every surface had been wiped spotless, and the air carried the faint citrus scent of my favorite diffuser. Busy at work in the kitchen was a very familiar figure. "Clary, you're home!" Patricia came hurrying out with her apron still on and a spatula in hand, her eyes red-rimmed.

"Finish this one, then take a break. You've studied enough today." Mom rested her chin in her hand and watched Sadie work. Her eyes held the kind of pride and warmth I hadn't gotten from her in forever. Then someone knocked. Mom's whole body relaxed, like she'd finally released a breath. "Vienna's back," Sadie said, smiling. "She came home to say sorry." Mom stayed in her chair. She just tipped her chin at the door. "Don't you have a key? Open it yourself." Nothing. A few seconds passed. Mom frowned and called again.

He asked again and still I gave a nod. "Do you want to go back home?" He asked. I found his words quite difficult to answer, going back home was something I never budgeted for, at least not now. I had plans in America and not until I reached the peak of it , home was the last thing on my mind. But then faced with dad's orders and sudden news of his ailing state, having to go home was the only option I was left with. "I think it'll be a better idea if you return home." he said moving closer to me. "You've achieved all you ever wanted and even more, so going back home will be something great." He said staring to me.

He couldn't accept that he had spent six years searching for her, only to find out she was with another man. He couldn't accept that the girl he had loved for over a decade was choosing to leave him. Thinking about all this, Burgess extinguished his cigarette and walked back into the ward, his body emanating a cold aura. "Let's go back home." Home... Oprah felt somewhat bewildered. Did she even have a home anymore? They got into the car. As Burgess drove, he couldn't stop coughing. Oprah paid no attention and stared out the window as raindrops slid down.