Welcome To My Humble Abode Meaning Novels & Stories

My house—his building, my house—can do better than that. “If you’re more comfortable shirtless,” I said, trying for breezy and landing somewhere right between coy and practical, “you’re welcome to take it off. Make yourself at home.” I waved a hand at the room. “I mean, you own the building anyway, but—you know what I mean.”

His response was as curt as I’d expected. “Hmm, Ẹ káàbọ̀” he grunted, barely meeting my gaze. Ẹ káàbọ̀ is the appropriate response for “Èkú ilé “, it means welcome home, it’s a form of greeting by the person at home to someone who was just returning from a journey. Before I could dwell on his cold reception, my mother seized my hands and ushered me inside. “Come in, dear. I cooked,” she said, leading me toward the dining room.

I replied tactfully. “Well this is your house now. I want you to feel completely at home here.”He murmurs to me smiling.. My smile was sardonic as I replied him. “It’s more like a palace than a home.” “You’re used to grand things, though, aren’t you?”He chrips in casually.

I hoped that I would be able to find a job and a place to live quickly so that I would not have to impose on him for too long. The drive to his apartment was short and uneventful. As we pulled into the parking lot, I glanced at the modest building, taking in its simple facade. It was a budget apartment, but it was clean and well-kept. I followed him up the stairs, curious to see what his apartment would be like. When we arrived at his door, he turned to me with a smile. "Welcome to my humble abode," he said, his tone light and cheerful.

And proceedsed to sit by the deck with one long leg bend and the other streched across the platform. Settling down opposite to him, I put forward the question that I felt most strongly about. "Do you like your home?" Suddenly the mesmerising hazel eyes set their attention on me. "I do." And I found myself smiling with the realization that he meant a world worth of meaning behind 3 letters. "I am happy that Underworld is your home." I muttered to myself in a hushed tone, but it didn't go unnoticed. Why in the world did I just say that?

I kind of hate how comfortable it is starting to feel. We reach the gate. It creaks a little as I push it open. My bungalow sits quietly beneath a cluster of trees, pale porch light flickering like it’s unsure whether to stay on. It’s not big. It’s not fancy. But it’s home. I take a breath. “Welcome to Casa Zen.”

I pushed him out of my way and rushed in, I twirled as I stared around in admiration -the leather chairs and cushions, gigantic chandelier light, the figurines and paintings hanging on the walls -it's as if I just stepped into a paradise. Is this guy just being modest? Or he doesn't know the meaning of the word 'humble'? The living room is small but it's still bigger than our whole house, it's just portable and exactly my dream house. "You call this humble abode?" I asked with a raised brow. "Yeah" he answered and threw his keys on the table. "I'll be staying here temporarily, until my internship is over" "Oh" "Have a seat" he gestured at a chair. "I'll get you something to drink, what do yo

We got to his house faster than I expected and I was a bit pleased to discover that his place was not quite far from mine. His apartment was cozy and tastefully furnished with cream paintings and well decorated walls. The whole place screamed class and the art paintings on the wall said the same too. "Welcome to my humble abode." He said, placing enough emphasis on "humble." I laughed quietly and then responded; "Your house is beautiful and trust me, there's nothing humble about this place." I replied and he flashed a smile in return, sat on the cushion and started untying his shoe lace, apparently in a bid to pull it off.

“Nothing.” My mortified mumble drew a grin that lightened some of the tension in his lean face. “Relax, this is not a love nest. I am temporarily homeless, while the experts sort out a bad case of dry rot. A man needs somewhere to lay his head, and this location is not inconvenient.” He explained. Did he just say he was temporarily homeless? Damn! Is this the rich people’s definition of homeless? This place is worth a million dollars, and it was just his temporary home?

She was probably admiring it and maybe wishing it was her here instead of me. “Hey.” Avery waved at me immediately after Aubrey. “Hi, how are you guys doing?” I forced myself to smile and act nice like I was happy they came over. “We’re good.” They both said in unison. “You have a very beautiful home,” Aubrey added. “Yes, I do,” I said in the most prideful way ever. “Welcome to my house.” Maxim had already told me that what was his was mine, so I didn’t feel like a fraud when I called it my house.