Home Again A Novel Novels & Stories

The dark cloud that had hovered over their lives for so long was finally dissipating, making way for a brighter future. Tiger guided Abraham through the elegant halls of the Kelvin mansion, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Abraham couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur of his surroundings, feeling a mix of awe and gratitude. After years of separation and injustice, he had finally found his way back to his true home. As they reached the doors of the magnificent drawing-room, Tiger paused, his hand resting gently on Abraham's shoulder. "Welcome home, Abraham. This mansion has missed your presence, and our family has yearned for this moment. You belong here, with us."

I'm an avid outdoorsman, while my wife, Gabrielle Jensen, is a homebody through and through. Every time I invite her to outdoor activities like hiking, running, and swimming, she turns me down. "I hate exercising," she says. Later, someone starts an online trend of showing how lazy their girlfriend can be. I film Gabrielle being a couch potato and post it to join the trend. Everyone comments saying how she's a true lazy introvert. Then, one comment catches my eye and freezes me in place. "Isn't that the old pool queen Gabrielle Jensen? She and Caleb Fisher made quite the swimming duo back then. Their relay team brought home more than a few trophies for our school. "They were the golden

Trust without guarantees. And Lena had given me something no title ever had. A reason to become better than the man I had been. She looked up at me. “What are you thinking?” I smiled. “That I still have one problem.” “What?” “Your books.” She laughed. “I warned you.” “I know.” “And?” I pulled her closer. “I think I'll make room.” Her smile grew. “So will I.” And beneath the city lights, with her in my arms and no contract standing between what we felt, I finally understood what home meant. It wasn't a place. It was the person you chose to return to. And I had chosen her.

“What the fuck was that? You just vanished at the party and then when I heard anything about you again-” I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “But I’m back now.” My gaze drifted past her to the room around us. The sunlight poured in generously through a large window. Outside, I could see the neatly lined homes of the prestigious neighborhood. Every house looked great and each one is watched over by pack guards stationed at their posts. I turned back to Daria, lifting a brow “We really did come to the wrong house.” Daria shook her head "No, we’re not.” Her eyes shimmered with warmth and something else. Pride. “Welcome home, warrior. Your new home. Time to say goodbye to that secluded little cabi

But I knew it hadn’t. Over the past three years, the time Cicio Russo spent alone with me had grown shorter and predictably shorter. He would rather stay in the grand study, where he dealt with all his family business, facing those dull shelves with bulky books, than come home to be with me and my everlasting warm company. The meals I reheated again and again, the lights that stayed on night after night—it all felt like they were telling me: He was not coming back. One night, Cicio came home late and paused for a moment when he stepped through the door.

It was a natural instinct, born in the depths of one's heart to persist in lingering inside and would rear its head whenever the transmigrator felt like he was already okay to stay in the current world. No matter how one denies it, it was a fact that even if one had no ties remaining to that place, the concept of home was not something they could easily brush off. The longing in their hearts would prevent them from fully integrating into the new world… They would always think of the inerasable past. It was the most painful kind of home-sickness. But the question was, in novels… was it always that easy to return to where they came from? No. Fate would not always be kind enough to let one trav

His scent, a unique blend of familiarity and warmth, wafted through the air, triggering a flood of memories and emotions. The airport's hustle and bustle faded into a distant hum, leaving only the two of us suspended in a timeless embrace. The term "home" took on a new dimension as I nestled against his chest. It wasn't about physical spaces or geographical locations; rather, it was embodied in the contours of his arms, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the silent promise that we carried within us. In his embrace, I found the solace that resonated with the sentiment of coming home – a home that transcended walls and boundaries.

Putting up with each other was the barest minimum. We were home in less than an hour. I got out of the car, my eyes scanning the surroundings. There were a lot of significant changes. My garden had been cleared out and replaced with a large fountain. I’d missed this place. It was the house I had picked for us to spend the rest of our lives. I poured so much effort into making it a home for us, but that had changed. It was mine now, one of the things I had to get back from them. “Does our home ring a bell?”

But on this particular morning, there was a different current in the air, a current that smelled faintly of woodsmoke and new beginnings, as though the universe itself had grown weary of disorder and was urging everyone toward reckoning. The family, broken as it was, gathered once more in the big living room of Gail’s mother’s new house. It wasn’t much, just a modest three-bedroom with cracked walls, peeling paint, and a garden Brenda — the noisy, jealous neighbor — had mocked more than once for being “uglier than the goatshed behind her granny’s place.” Yet despite its plainness, it carried something none of their homes had felt in years: safety.

She broke the silence again but he notices her voice, it was cold, empty, still. "Till summer." "So the bullshit about home was just....bullshit?" She asked and he noticed the slight fire dancing in her eyes but it was gone right away. "Don't curse O'Brian." He warned, eyes narrowed at the beautiful girl beside him. When she didn't say anything he said, "I meant it, I am home." It was just hard to explain to her what his home actually was. "You don't leave home." "Who says I left?" "You did."