Novels Home Novels & Stories

Sheldon sold his own blood just to scrape together enough cash to sneak back into the country. He'd lost everything—flat broke, banned from flying, and not a penny to his name. Smuggling himself back was his only option. After a grueling week-long trip, he finally made it home. The first thing he did was rush to the basement apartment in our old neighborhood, thinking he'd find me and the boys there. But when he opened the door, all he saw was junk piled to the ceiling, the place stinking of mold and trash.

I do think my first obstacle has come—being comfortable inside the House. Though I’d say, Fenrir’s house looked a lot more cozier than this mansion. I shook my head and got rid of that thought. No. I will not make comparisons. This mansion is my new home, I shall get cozy in it no matter what. “Welcome, Princess. I hope you will make yourself comfortable in the House.” I turn to Flavian upon hearing his voice and smiled. “I will, thank you.”

I couldn't consider it home. "I don't think home is just a house, Kalila," Nova said. "I would define it as the place where you're most loved and find absolute peace." I shrugged, contemplating her words. "I guess I don't have a home then." "Here, you have a second chance to live and build one," she said, and suddenly, I felt annoyed. "Oh, I should be thankful to divinity for letting me live in another world and someone else's body," I threw at her sarcastically.

Susan finished reading a newspaper as she sat on her sofa by the window in her room upstairs, then she kept it aside, and moved to pick up a novel by her bedside table. She returned to the sofa, opened the page where she had stopped last night, and kept on reading. Reading novels, Susan discovered, was perfect for distraction. It took her mind off recent happenings, of her world, and took her to a world of her own. In her world of fantasy, she didn’t care what happened in her and without, especially the disturbance slowly stirring in High Town City (which the news, and the newspapers carried), and the great, uncontrollable urge to kill. She cared for nothing in this state actually, save for

My home. Forever. ----- **THE END**

In the yard, I planted all sorts of flowers and plants. The renovated home was as beautiful as I had imagined. On a sunny day, I moved into my new home and held a small opening ceremony for the bookstore. As I had imagined, the bookstore did not do very well. Occasionally, kids from the neighborhood would come in to read, but most of the time, it was deserted. That was fine. It was quiet, and I could sit behind the counter and concentrate on writing my novel. I had a passion for writing since college and occasionally had short stories published in magazines. I had also written a web novel before. It was well received, gaining me some readers and earning me a considerable sum of money.

Julia The traffic picks up as we get further downtown, but it's still not long before Riley announces that we are home. Home, not his home, just home, and I am not sure what to make of it. This is his home, not ours... wait, this is the Royal Towers Hotel. It's one of the biggest buildings downtown and one of the most expensive. Only the richest of the rich stay here because of the stinkingly high price tag. What are we doing here? This can't be where he lives, surely.

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.

The title was simple, elegant, and deeply personal: Homeward Bound. The artwork depicted a warm, glowing house surrounded by trees, a pathway leading toward an open door. It wasn’t just any house. It was ours. Luca gasped. “Dad, that looks like our home!” Tears blurred my vision as I nodded. “Because it is,” I whispered. I opened the book, flipping through the pages. Each chapter told a piece of our journey, weaving together themes of love, resilience, and chosen family. The final page held the dedication, one I had written months ago but had never read aloud.

It is their home. For a long time, he had always wanted to have a home. But he learned that it was not just some four cornered brick wall with a few windows, a door and a roof. A house is not just a home. A home is where you can dwell memories and feel a sense of belongingness. A home is family. And he finally found his. A place to call home. End.