Beautiful encounter

CHAPTER 2: Home

Class ended early, and as I gathered my things, Soren turned to me with his usual bright smile. "Bye, Dwyne! See you tomorrow," he called out, his voice full of energy.

I smiled back, feeling the warmth of his words. "See ya!" I replied, waving as we parted ways. Our houses were in different directions, and since mine was quite a distance from school, I had to catch the bus.

The ride was quiet, giving me time to think about the day. The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light across the streets as we passed by familiar places. I watched as people went about their routines, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. Soon enough, the bus reached my stop.

As I stepped off and started the walk toward home, I noticed a familiar figure in the distance-my mother, standing by the gate. She wasn't the type to express her emotions openly, and we didn't share a particularly close bond, but deep down, I knew how much she cared. There was always a quiet strength in her love, one that didn't need to be spoken aloud.

"Mom, I'm home," I called out with a smile, waving as I approached.

She turned and smiled softly, walking towards me with open arms. Her hug was warm, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. Despite the unspoken distance between us, that simple gesture spoke louder than words ever could.

After a long, fun, but exhausting day, I finally went to my room, kicked off my shoes, and lay down on my bed. The comfort of the soft mattress instantly soothed my tired body. I let out a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of the day slowly melt away. As I stared up at the ceiling, a thought crossed my mind-I hadn't checked my phone yet. I quickly reached over to my nightstand, grabbed it, and unlocked the screen.

The familiar ping of a notification greeted me, and as I swiped through my messages, I smiled. It was from Maki, my boyfriend. Even though we go to different schools and rarely get to see each other in person, we make sure to stay in touch. He had sent me a message earlier. "Babii, I miss you," it read. My heart fluttered.

I smiled softly and typed out a reply, "I miss you more, babii. I'm home now." It was tough being apart, not being able to see his face or hear his voice as much as I'd like. But thankfully, with social media and messaging apps, it felt like we were never too far away from each other.

As I lay there, waiting for his reply, I couldn't help but think about how much easier it was to cope with the distance thanks to technology. We had built our relationship on trust and constant communication, something I was incredibly grateful for. Even though it wasn't the same as being together in person, it was enough to remind me that, no matter how far apart we were, we were still connected.

As I lay in bed, my body sank deeper into the soft mattress, the events of the day slowly fading from my mind. My eyes grew heavier with each passing moment, and soon enough, I couldn’t fight the drowsiness any longer. I slipped into sleep, the world around me fading to black.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been out, but I was gently stirred from my dreams by the soft sound of my mother’s voice. “Hey, wake up. It’s dinner time, let’s eat,” she called out gently from the doorway. Her voice was so comforting, it almost felt like part of the dream. She didn’t wait for a response, just quietly left the room, giving me a moment to wake up on my own.

I slowly blinked my eyes open, stretching out the stiffness in my limbs as I groggily sat up. The muscles in my back cracked slightly as I raised my arms above my head. I stretched my legs one by one before finally standing, feeling more awake with each movement. I shuffled toward the door, feeling the coolness of the floor beneath my feet.

The moment I opened the door and stepped into the hallway, I was hit by an incredibly mouth-watering aroma. The rich scent of soy sauce, garlic, and vinegar filled the air, instantly recognizable as my favorite dish—adobo. A smile spread across my face, and suddenly all traces of sleepiness vanished. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement as I hurried toward the kitchen, the smell pulling me in like a magnet.

As I walked in, I noticed my sister already seated at the dining table, casually scrolling through her phone as she waited. We attended different schools now, and our schedules rarely lined up, so we didn’t talk much these days. It felt like we were drifting apart, each of us busy with our own lives. Still, there was something reassuring about seeing her sitting there, a familiar presence even in our silence.

I took my seat at the table across from her, and for a brief moment, we exchanged a glance. She gave a slight nod, and I nodded back. No words were exchanged, but there was an understanding—a quiet acknowledgement of each other’s presence. Sometimes, that was all we needed.

Before long, the table was filled with the steaming pot of adobo, the rich sauce glistening under the light. My stomach growled in anticipation. I wasted no time in serving myself, the tender pieces of chicken practically falling apart as I placed them onto my plate. I dug in eagerly, the flavors exploding in my mouth, the familiar taste bringing a sense of comfort that only home-cooked meals could provide.

As we ate, the clinking of utensils filled the room, punctuated by the occasional comment from my mother about the day’s events. The conversation was light, nothing too deep, but it felt nice. Even with the quiet between my sister and me, dinner still felt warm and familiar, like a small piece of normalcy in an otherwise busy world.

For a brief moment, I allowed myself to savor not just the food, but the simple act of being together as a family. Even though we didn’t always talk, and even though life often pulled us in different directions, moments like this—sharing a meal, being in each other’s presence—reminded me that we were still connected.

And that was enough.