Part 6

Night settles over the city; neon signs flickering against spotless streets. I close the poetry book, slip it back onto the shelf, and step outside. The air is cooler now, humming with quiet energy.

I pull out my phone, download a taxi app, and confirm my ride. Minutes later, a sleek car glides to the curb. The driver greets me with a nod, and I settle into the back seat. As we pull away, I watch the city blur past—bright lights, glowing billboards, and the quiet rhythm of a place that feels both familiar and strange.

Thirty minutes pass in silence until the driver eases into my neighborhood. "Here you are, young lady," he says with a smile. I thank him, step out, and take in the sight of my house. It looks remodeled—sleek lines, warm lighting, glass panels—but still carries the outline of home.

As I approach, movement catches my eye—my little brother Thompson peeking through the window. His face lights up, and in an instant he's at the door, unlocking it, rushing into my arms. "We missed you so much! We didn't know if you'd ever come back."

I hugged him tightly; my throat was thick. "I missed you too, buddy."

Inside, I set my belongings down. Dad enters the kitchen; his expression is a mix of relief and disbelief. "Carmen! We were so worried after you disappeared three years ago. But now you're here." He pulls me into a strong embrace, and for a moment, everything feels whole again.

Then his voice falters. "Unfortunately... your mom didn't survive."

The words hang heavily in the air. My breath catches. Thompson lowers his gaze, still clinging to me. I swallow hard, forcing myself to stay upright, the weight of loss pressing down.

Later, I retreated upstairs, exhaustion overtaking me. I close my bedroom door, sink onto the bed, and let the silence of the night carry me into sleep.