No Place Like Home Novel Novels & Stories

“There was a house. That was not a court. That was not famous. That was not bad. That was just… home.” _Thump._ “Home had a Mama,” Adrian read. Looked at me. “Who was brave. Even when she was scared.” “Home had a Dada,” Adrian read. Looked at Alex. “Who was late. But never gone.” “Home had an Alex,” Adrian read. “Who was 5. But saved everyone. By saying ‘eventually.’” “Home had an Ivy,” Adrian read. Looked at Ivy. Sleeping. “Who taught everyone ‘no.’ By saying ‘home.’”

I trailed when the word 'home' almost rolled off my lips. "I know I know," Clara smirked, an attempt to brighten up the mood. "I remind you of a Godmother, I'm that awesome." I slapped her hand away. "Get away from me." I couldn't hide the smirk that tugged on my lips. Thanks to Clara, life was a bit bearable here. Not that anything was wrong...It just felt like I was in the wrong place. It's funny how this is my actual home yet Ronan's world feels more home than this place.

I glanced sideways and saw Isabella desperately trying to hide her face behind my shoulder, yet her hand clung to mine with a strength that surprised me. Amid the deafening cheers, I looked at my family in the front row. Their faces were almost ashen. In that moment, I felt no vindication or even hatred. Because at last, in this reckoning 20 years overdue, I'd taken that scarred little girl by the hand and led her home. I finally understood that home wasn't where one was born, but where the love was.

There was no going back and the thought was frightening,she'll never see her home again the place she had lived in her whole life the only place she had known now she will start a new home with Max. She asked him where they were going and he said downtown palm beach gardens where everyone does their shopping,on the opposite side of the street were empty rental spaces that she can choose from or if she didn't like any of them she can always look inside the Gardens mall for any open spaces.Ten minutes later the car came to a halt and they got out.

It was the same feeling he felt when he saw Vida for the first time and every time he looked deep in her eyes. "It may not be much, but when I came upon this place, I was mesmerized. It made me wonder how it thrived in a city full of concrete and automobiles." Colter sighed. "It also reminded me of home. My mother kept a garden similar to this. Although it isn't as spacious as the one at home, the tranquility it gives me is indeed similar." Vida made an adorable motion of cocking her head to the side. "You sound like you miss home so much. And you obviously are not from around here. Where is home, anyway?"

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.

I only had a year to find my answers, no distractions was a good way to start. "Venus, honey, are you ready?" My mom called me from the kitchen, as I opened my bedroom door. "Yes, mom be right there." I called back. Walking towards the kitchen, I was singing Famous Last Words out loud. "I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone, honey if you stay I'll be forgiven, Nothing you can say can stop me going home. Can you see my eyes are shining bright? Cause I'm out here on the other side of a jet black hotel mirror and I'm so weak..."

They moved into the apartment on our floor. This meant that our hallway frequently contained arguments conducted in the specific register of two people who are extremely similar in exactly the ways that make them want to occasionally throw things at each other. But it also meant that Lyra, who had come so far from the woman who had stood between me and my own story, was home. In the way that people become home. In the way that I was learning home didn't have to be a single place or a single kind of belonging but could be built from many things simultaneously and still be real.

Home, Lydia was learning, was not a fixed place. It wasn’t the Blackwood mansion with its echoing halls, nor was it the temporary apartment overlooking rain-soaked London streets. Home was something quieter, something that revealed itself in routines and shared silences, in the way two lives gradually learned each other’s edges.

Community Home for the homeless might be bad but there's nothing worse than this. I closed the book, letting out a sigh as I placed my hand on my forehead. Community home for the homeless was the name of the orphanage? I needed to go back there and trace the original background of Jasmine Winter.