53. Old Memories Resurface

As Matthew stepped into Emma and Shirley's apartment, a wave of warmth washed over him. It was nothing like his own home—his expansive villa, pristine and luxurious but utterly lifeless. Here, everything felt lived-in, cozy, and filled with personality. The faint scent of vanilla and lavender lingered in the air, likely from the scented candles on the coffee table. A knitted throw blanket was draped over the couch, and framed photos of Emma and Shirley decorated the walls. Shoes were scattered near the door, and a half-empty cup of tea sat on the kitchen counter.

Matthew let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "Damn," he muttered. "This place actually feels like a home."

Shirley smirked, tossing her keys onto the table. "Are you saying your big fancy mansion doesn't?"

Matthew gave her a wry smile. "Unless you count a place cleaned by housekeepers and filled with expensive furniture I never use as 'homey,' then no."

Emma, who had just kicked off her heels and plopped onto the couch, looked up at him with a knowing expression. "You never liked that house, did you?"

Matthew hesitated, then sighed. "It's not that I don't appreciate it. But… it's always felt more like a showroom than a place to live. Cold. Empty." His voice trailed off before he shook his head and forced a smile. "Anyway, enough about that. This place is nice."

Emma exchanged a glance with Shirley before grinning. "Of course it is! We actually live here, you know. Unlike *some people* who just own property and call it a home."

Matthew chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Point taken."

As he walked further into the living room, something on the shelf caught his attention—a small, slightly worn yet beautifully decorated box. It looked out of place among the more modern decor. Intrigued, he reached for it.

"Hey, what's this?" he asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

Emma, who had been stretching her legs on the couch, immediately sat up. Her eyes flickered to the box in his hands, and for a moment, she looked almost nervous.

"Uh…" She scratched the back of her neck. "Just… old stuff. Sentimental things."

Matthew arched a brow but didn't press. He gently lifted the lid and peered inside.

The moment he saw what was inside, his breath caught in his throat.

Scattered within were pieces of paper—torn, fragile with age, but carefully taped back together. He picked one up, his fingers lightly tracing over the faded ink. His eyes widened as he recognized the words.

His lyrics.

His old, forgotten lyrics.

The ones he had written in his teenage years, full of passion, dreams, and unpolished emotion. The ones he had deemed imperfect, unsatisfactory—so much so that he had torn them apart and thrown them away.

Yet, here they were.

Pieced back together. Preserved. As if they were something precious.

Matthew swallowed hard, his grip on the fragile papers tightening. He felt something stir deep inside him—something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Emma," his voice was quieter now, more vulnerable. "You… kept these?"

Emma shifted uncomfortably, biting her lower lip before giving a small nod. "Yeah."

Matthew exhaled sharply, shaking his head in disbelief. "But why? I threw these away years ago. They weren't good enough."

Emma frowned, crossing her arms. "Says who?"

Matthew hesitated. "I did."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, you were an idiot."

Matthew looked up at her, startled by her bluntness. Shirley, sitting beside Emma, stifled a laugh but said nothing, watching the exchange with amusement.

"You might've thought they weren't perfect," Emma continued, her voice softer now. "But to me, they meant something. I used to sneak into your room and read them whenever you weren't home. They were raw, real… and they had heart. I could feel what you were feeling through those words."

Matthew's throat felt tight. "I never knew you read them."

Emma shrugged, a small, almost shy smile playing on her lips. "I did. And when I saw you tear them apart, it broke my heart. So… I picked up the pieces. Literally." She motioned toward the taped-together pages. "Because they mattered. You might've given up on them, but I didn't."

For a long moment, Matthew couldn't find his voice. He stared at the papers in his hands, memories of his younger self flooding back—the late nights spent scribbling lyrics, the frustration of never feeling good enough, the self-doubt that had always lingered in the back of his mind.

And here was his little sister, proving him wrong all these years later.

A wave of guilt washed over him. He had spent so much time assuming she was just his baby sister, someone who needed protecting, someone who looked up to him in a simple, childish way. But he had underestimated her. He had underestimated how much she saw, how much she understood, how much she *cared.*

Matthew cleared his throat, forcing a chuckle to mask the emotion threatening to choke him. "Wow. So, you were my first fan, huh?"

Emma smirked. "Technically, yes. But you didn't appreciate me back then."

Matthew let out a breath, shaking his head with a small, almost regretful smile. "No… I didn't." He looked back at her, sincerity filling his gaze. "But I do now."

Emma's expression softened. "Good. Because I was seriously considering billing you for emotional damages."

Shirley burst out laughing. "Honestly, that's fair."

Matthew chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Alright, alright. I'll make it up to you. How about I play one of these old songs for you sometime?"

Emma's eyes lit up. "Really? You'd do that?"

Matthew nodded. "Yeah. I think it's time I stopped dismissing them so easily. Besides," he smirked, "I'd like to see if I can still impress my number-one fan."

Emma grinned. "Challenge accepted."

Shirley sighed dramatically. "Ugh, this is so sweet I might get cavities."

Matthew smirked. "Don't act like you're not secretly touched."

Shirley flipped her hair. "Whatever. Now, can we eat? All this emotional bonding is making me hungry."

Emma laughed. "Yeah, let's get food. I think we deserve it after tonight."

Matthew carefully placed the lyrics back in the box, closing the lid with newfound reverence. As they moved on with their night, eating, talking, and joking like old times, one thought lingered in his mind.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as alone as he thought.

And for the first time in a long time, Matthew Hamilton felt like he was home.