“The House That Waited”
Mira never intended to return.
She had built this home with hands full of hope and a heart that still believed in forever. The day she left, the walls seemed to whisper her name, but she had ignored them. She had packed her life into a single suitcase and disappeared into the kind of silence that could only be found in cities where no one knew her name.
Yet, here she was.
The air smelled the same—wood, rain, and something familiar she couldn’t quite place. Time had softened the edges of the place, vines curling around steel, dust settling where laughter once lived. But the house… it was still standing. Still waiting.
She traced her fingers over the doorframe, the same way she used to when she would come home late, hoping he was still awake. Hoping he was still waiting.
But he wasn’t.
The note she had left him all those years ago still lay on the kitchen counter, untouched. Three words. A sentence she had agonized over.
“I had to.”
Mira swallowed hard. No matter how much she had convinced herself otherwise, the truth was undeniable.
Some places don’t forget.
Some doors never fully close.
And some homes—no matter how far you run—never stop calling you back.
