CHAPTER 147: CHAPTER 147 – “WELCOME HOME”

The sun hung low in the sky as their family car crested the final hill before their countryside home came into view. The familiar expanse of green fields stretched out, shimmering under golden light. The cornfields swayed in the breeze, and Lucia’s soft voice chimed through the dashboard:

"Welcome back, Ren. I’ve missed the family’s laughter."

Ren chuckled and reached over to squeeze Aoi’s hand.

"Home, at last."

In the back seat, Hikari had fallen asleep with a crayon still in her hand, her latest drawing—a family of four in front of Mount Fuji—resting on her lap. Hina dozed peacefully in her carrier beside her, a tiny hand curled around a stuffed rabbit they’d bought in Kyoto.

Unpacking Silence

They carried their memories inside with the luggage—Aoi humming softly as she placed freshly washed sea glass into a jar near the window. Ren slipped off his shoes at the entrance, feeling the warm wooden floor beneath his feet, like a long-forgotten hug.

"It smells like... home," Aoi whispered, smiling as she opened the windows. The scent of countryside soil, wood, and faint lavender from the garden drifted in.

Lucia had already dusted and aired out the rooms, even leaving a vase of fresh wildflowers on the dining table.

"Thank you, Lucia," Aoi said.

"It’s my pleasure to care for you, Aoi."

Evening Routine

Dinner was simple: steamed rice, tofu miso soup, and the last of the pickled vegetables Aoi’s mother had packed before their trip. The quiet clinking of chopsticks and soft baby coos filled the dining space with warmth.

Afterward, Ren bathed Hikari and Hina together, telling made-up stories about a sea-dragon who collected memories instead of treasure. Aoi smiled from the hallway, watching him wrap their daughters in soft towels and kiss their foreheads.

Aoi and Ren’s Balcony Moment

Once the kids were tucked in—Hikari clutching her new plush toy and Hina sound asleep in her crib—Aoi and Ren stepped out to the balcony, wrapped in a shared shawl.

The stars above looked exactly the same, but something in them felt more peaceful.

"We traveled so far," Aoi said, leaning on Ren’s chest. "But this porch... this sky... this is where everything makes sense."

Ren nodded, pressing his lips to her hair.

"I used to dream of cities, machines, the future. Now I just want to dream with you—every night, in this place."

Aoi smiled, turning her head.

"And with our daughters. Don’t forget them."

"How could I?" Ren grinned. "They carry our future."

Lucia’s voice whispered from the shadows—low, respectful, like a family member not wanting to interrupt.

"Good night, Ren. Good night, Aoi."

They sat together in the silence, two parents who had once been teenagers with wild dreams, now watching those dreams turn into warm lights flickering inside the windows of a house they’d built with love.