chapter 32

He walked back into the living room, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the small details—his father’s old armchair, the family portraits on the wall, the shelf where his mother used to keep her favorite books. Every inch of this house held a memory, a story. It wasn’t a place that deserved to be sold to strangers. It deserved to be preserved, to be cherished.He stood before the portraits of his parents and Shriya again, his gaze lingering on their faces. Their smiles were frozen in time, but in his heart, he could feel their presence, their warmth, their love.“I’ve been gone for too long,” he whispered, his voice steady this time. “But I’m home now. And I won’t leave you again.”Rishabh took a deep breath, feeling a strange mix of sadness and relief washed over him. He had spent so many years running from this place, from the pain it held, but now, he understood that this house wasn’t just a reminder of the past—it was his family’s legacy. Rishabh ascended the stairs, his heart lighter with every step. He entered his old bedroom, the same room where he had stayed up countless nights studying, dreaming of a better future. The bed was still neatly made, as if waiting for him to return. He set his luggage down and sat at the edge of the bed, running his hand over the familiar quilt his mother had stitched years ago. Memories flooded back—of his mother bringing him tea late at night while he studied, his father checking on him with a quiet nod of approval, Shriya barging in, full of energy, to tell him the latest gossip from her day. He had spent so much time trying to push those memories away, thinking they only brought pain. But now, they brought comfort.As the evening sun dipped lower, casting a golden glow through the window, Rishabh realized this was exactly where he needed to be. The house wasn’t just bricks and walls—it was filled with the essence of the people he loved most. It was their laughter, their voices, their love that lived on in these rooms.He knew it wouldn't be easy, and that there would be days when the grief would return, as sharp as ever. But he also knew that this house, their home, was the anchor he needed. It was the only place where he could truly feel connected to them.Rishabh got up and walked to the window, looking out at the small garden below where his mother used to tend to her plants, where his father would sit with a book on lazy afternoons. It was overgrown now, but in his mind, he could still see them there, as if no time had passed.“I’m staying,” he whispered, almost as if he were telling them.The decision was made. He would stay. Not because he couldn’t move on, but because this house, with all its memories, was where his heart had always belonged. Here, he would find peace. Here, he would remember them—not with sadness, but with gratitude for the love they had given him.As he turned to leave the room, he knew that this was a new beginning, not an end. He would restore the house, fill it with new life, but always keep the memory of his family alive within its walls. And in doing so, he wouldn’t just honor them—he would honor himself and the life they had worked so hard to give him.With one final glance at the house, Rishabh smiled through his tears, feeling the warmth of their love wrap around him. He was home, and this time, he was staying.---In the end, Rishabh found not just a house to return to, but a home filled with love, memories, and the promise of healing. The journey that had started with loss ended with a deep sense of belonging—a bond with his family that time and distance could never break. And for Rishabh, that was more than enough.