The city lights faded behind him as he turned onto the quieter streets of the neighborhood.
It had been a while since he had driven through these roads.
The trees lining the sidewalks still stood tall, their leaves rustling softly in the cold night air.
The houses all looked the same — modest, well-kept, with warm lights glowing through curtained windows.
His childhood home was just up ahead.
Ethan slowed the car as he approached, his hands gripping the wheel a little tighter than before.
The house looked just like he remembered it.
The porch light was on, casting a soft yellow glow onto the small front yard. The curtains were drawn, but he could make out shadows moving inside.
The driveway was still cracked in places, the same way it had been when he was a kid, and the old oak tree in the front yard still stood, its bare branches stretching toward the sky like skeletal fingers.
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He pulled up to the curb and put the car in park.
For a few moments, he didn’t move. He just sat there, his fingers tapping absently against the wheel as he stared at the house.
His heart was beating a little faster than usual. Not out of fear. Not out of excitement. Just… anticipation.
He had spent so much time avoiding this place, avoiding them. And now, he was here.
With a quiet exhale, he pushed the car door open.
The cold air hit him instantly, sharp and biting against his skin. He barely noticed.
Because standing just outside the house, on the porch, were all of them.
His mother. His father. Claire. And little Emily, peeking from behind Claire’s arm, her wide eyes fixed on him like she couldn’t believe he was real.
They were all there.
Waiting for him.
The night air was cold, thick with an eerie silence that neither the wind nor the occasional rustle of trees could break.
Ethan stood outside the familiar house, his breath steady, his expression unreadable.
The headlights of his Porsche cast long shadows over the pavement, illuminating the small suburban home that once held all the warmth in the world for him.
But now, it felt foreign.
His family stood there, lined up like statues frozen in time.
His father was standing with his arms crossed, his face impassive.
His mother, an older yet still strikingly beautiful woman, had her hands clasped in front of her as though unsure whether to reach out or keep her distance.
Claire, his younger sister, stood slightly behind their mother, her phone still gripped tightly in her hands, as if she hadn’t processed the fact that Ethan had actually answered this time.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then, a small gasp broke the silence.
A blur of movement shot forward, and before Ethan could fully react, a tiny pair of arms wrapped tightly around his leg.
"Big brother!"
Little Julia.
Ethan’s serious expression softened immediately as he looked down at the little girl hugging him so tightly, as if afraid he would vanish again.
She was smaller than he remembered — though maybe that was just in his head. He reached down, scooping her up in one fluid motion, effortlessly lifting her into his arms.
Julia’s round, innocent eyes locked onto his. "Is that your car?" she asked, pointing to the sleek Porsche parked behind him.
Ethan smirked. "Yeah. It’s mine."
Her mouth fell open slightly in awe. "It looks like the ones in my toy set!"
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "So what, my car looks like a toy?"
Julia giggled, shaking her head furiously. "Nooo. It’s cooler!"
That tiny exchange — the simple joy in her voice, the childlike excitement in her eyes — was enough to loosen the tight grip around his chest.
In front of him, his mother exhaled quietly, her posture relaxing just a fraction.
Claire shifted, unfolding her arms, but her lips were still pressed together. She was clearly holding something back.
Ethan adjusted Julia in his arms, glancing toward the front door. "So… are we just going to stand out here all night?"
His mother snapped out of her thoughts. "No, of course not," she said quickly, stepping aside and motioning toward the house. "Come inside, Ethan. We should all sit down."
Ethan gave a small nod before walking up the steps, still carrying Julia as she clung to him. He could feel Claire’s gaze burning into his back, full of unspoken words.
The air inside the house was warmer than outside, but it didn’t hold the same warmth he remembered from his childhood.
It was different now — quieter, almost eerie. The living room, though neatly arranged, had an odd emptiness to it.
He set Julia down, and she immediately ran to grab one of her toys from the couch. Meanwhile, Ethan’s father finally moved, stepping forward to join them.
His towering presence had once been something Ethan admired — something that felt like a shield against the world. But now?
Now it felt like a wall between them.
They all sat down, though Ethan remained on edge, his foot tapping lightly against the floor.
His mother sat across from him, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle in her dress, while Claire positioned herself on the armrest of a chair, still watching him intently.
His father leaned back in his chair, arms folded, eyes unreadable.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then, his mother finally broke the silence. "Ethan… how have you been?"
It was such a simple question, yet it carried so much weight.
Ethan shrugged, leaning back against the couch. "Busy."
Claire scoffed. "Yeah, we noticed."
His jaw tensed slightly, but he didn’t respond right away.
Instead, his eyes flicked toward Julia, who was happily playing with a stuffed bear on the floor, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.
His mother gave Claire a warning look before turning back to him. "We’ve been worried about you."
Ethan exhaled through his nose. "Yeah? Didn’t seem like it when I was all alone."
His father’s gaze darkened, and Claire’s grip on the armrest tightened.
"That’s not fair," his mother said softly. "We never doubted you, Ethan. We were devastated when you — " She stopped, exhaling sharply. "When everything happened."