The next morning, I woke up later than usual—a rare indulgence, but one I sorely needed. The weight I'd been carrying had lessened, thanks to last night's conversation with Dad. His words still lingered in my mind like a balm, soothing the ache I hadn't even realized had settled so deeply in me.
As I made my way into the dining hall, the warm scent of freshly baked bread and brewed tea greeted me. Dad was already there, sipping from his cup and reading through a few documents. He looked up the moment I entered and smiled.
"So, will you return for dinner?" he asked, his tone hopeful but casual.
"Um... probably not," I replied as I took a seat. "There's bound to be a mountain of paperwork waiting for me. I might stay back home and come again in two or three days."
"Reina," he said with a small sigh, "this is your home."
I smiled gently, warmed by his sentiment, but I shook my head. "At this point, Father, I don't have just one home. I have homes."
