Eternal Echoes

Chapter Seventy- Four: coming home

3rd Person POV

The door of Michaella's family home clicked shut behind her, the familiar creak echoing softly in the hallway. The lavender-scented candles her mother always burned filled the air, wrapping her in the comforting aroma of childhood memories. Michaella paused for a moment, closing her eyes and allowing the warmth of home to seep into her bones.

Her mind was still buzzing with the today's interview. It had taken everything she had to stay focused, especially after being under the weather for the past week. But now, as she slipped off her shoes and padded through the house, a sense of calm began to settle over her.

"Is that you, sweetie?" her mother's voice drifted from the kitchen, laced with the same gentle concern that had always soothed Michaella.

"Yes, Mom, it's me," she called back, a small smile playing on her lips. She made her way toward the kitchen, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor.

As she entered, the sight of her mother stirring a pot of soup filled Michaella with a sense of peace. The rich, savoury aroma filled the room, grounding her in the familiarity of home.

Her mother turned, her eyes lighting up as they met Michaella's. "You look tired, honey. How did the interview go?"

Michaella leaned against the counter, letting out a long breath. "The interview went well, I think. But it was exhausting to watch everything I said specially when the host tried to make it personal. I'm just glad to be home."

Her mother smiled, reaching out to squeeze Michaella's hand. "I'm sure you did wonderfully, as always. You work so hard, Michaella. You deserve a break."

"I'll rest after everything's settled," Michaella replied, though she knew her mother was right. She felt the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her, but for now, she allowed herself to be present in this moment.

Her mother glanced at the clock, then back at her with a knowing look. "Your father's out in the garden, if you want to say hello. He's been tending to his roses all afternoon."

Michaella nodded, grateful for the suggestion. "I'll go see him."

She left the warmth of the kitchen and stepped outside, the cool evening air refreshing against her skin. The garden was a riot of colour, the roses her father tended blooming in vibrant shades of red, pink, and white. She spotted him kneeling beside a bush, carefully trimming the stems with the same precision he had always shown in everything he did.

"Hey, Dad," Michaella called softly as she approached.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a smile that reached his eyes. "Michaella! How did the interview go?"

"They went alright," she replied, kneeling beside him. "I'm just relieved it's over."

"You always find the right person," he assured her, turning back to his roses. "You've got a good sense for people, Michaella. Trust yourself."

They worked in companionable silence for a while, Michaella watching her father's hands move with practiced care. She cherished these quiet moments, the unspoken bond that had always connected them. There was something about being here, in this garden, with the scent of roses filling the air, that made everything else seem a little less overwhelming.

After a while, Michaella stood, brushing the dirt from her knees. "I've got a meeting with Sarah soon. I should get ready."

Her father nodded, giving her a gentle smile. "Don't push yourself too hard, Michaella. You've been through a lot lately. Take care of yourself."