My Last And My Only
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    Chapter 112: Between Two Families

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    Home had always been quiet.
    Not because there was no one around.
    But because everyone in the house appreciated silence.
    Even with the soft clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen, the occasional footsteps of the household staff, and the distant hum of the air conditioner, there was a comforting calm that Chico had always associated with home.
    It was the kind of silence that never felt empty.
    Only peaceful.
    Dinner had ended nearly half an hour ago.
    The dining table had already been cleared except for three cups of warm tea.
    One of the household helpers excused herself after refilling the teapot, leaving the family to enjoy the rest of the evening together.
    His mother smiled.
    "So..."
    "Tell us more about Manila."
    Chico leaned comfortably against his chair.
    "What else do you want to know?"
    His father chuckled.
    "You've spent the last thirty minutes making us feel like we were there."
    "I left out a lot."
    "I find that hard to believe."
    His mother laughed.
    "I'm sure you did."
    She stirred her tea absentmindedly.
    "You've always been the type to leave out the interesting parts."
    "I don't know about interesting."
    "You absolutely do."
    His father smiled.
    "You've been smiling ever since you got home."
    Chico blinked.
    "Have I?"
    "You have."
    "I guess I just enjoyed the trip."
    "We can tell."
    His mother rested her chin on her hand.
    "You don't travel very often just for leisure."
    "I know."
    "It was nice."
    "It felt..."
    He searched for the right word.
    "...light."
    His parents exchanged a quiet smile.
    "I'm glad," his mother said softly.
    "You needed that."
    For the next several minutes, Chico told them more stories.
    About the museum.
    About Christine somehow turning every exhibit into a competition.
    About Lindtsey pretending not to enjoy herself while secretly laughing every time Christine complained.
    About Yves patiently translating museum descriptions for Christine after she'd somehow misunderstood three displays in a row.
    His father laughed so hard he nearly spilled his tea.
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