Homecoming

The night was still young when Matthew stepped through the front gate. The house, grand and resplendent, stood against the dimming sky like a beacon, its whitewashed walls catching the glow of the ornate lamps lining the garden path. Unlike the quiet, subdued streets outside, this place was alive—every window spilling warm light, the soft sounds of conversation filtering through the walls, a stark contrast to the silence he'd just walked away from.

But he heard an eerie, quiet whisper—something... Its tone sounded like something he shouldn't hear.

He hesitated, standing just outside the threshold then he hid, embedding himself against the wall. His ears, moving past the echo of the flat screen TV—found his mother's soft and his aunt's gentler voice.

The moment the television's noise dialed down, his ears caught something—his mother, hushed yet uneasy.

"...it's just until things get better, Dawn. I need time. That's all."

A pause. Then his aunt's voice, softer but carrying something beneath the careful tone. Worry? Frustration?

"Helen, you can't keep him in the dark forever."

Matthew's heart—felt like air was slowly adrift from it, and his mind perplexed. Keep in the dark? For what? He wasn't meant to hear this, he didn't mean to, but the deeper the conversation got—the harder it was to pull away.

His mother's response came, a pained pitch escaping with her breath.

"I know."

Then silence. A thick, lingering quiet that settled like dust in the air.

He cleared his throat, loud enough to announce his presence but not enough to be intentional. Chairs scraped against the tiled floor. The low murmur of the television suddenly seemed sharper. Then, his mother and aunt flinched where they sat, their expressions shifting so quickly it almost made him dizzy.

Helen tightened her grip around Dawn's hand, her fingers pressing into her sister's wrist as if to pass on some unspoken thought. Whatever it was, Dawn received it loud and clear because, in the next moment, she had plastered a beaming smile on her face and was rushing toward him.

"Matthew!" Dawn's voice rang with exaggerated delight, arms outstretched like she was about to smother him. "Welcome home! So tall! My goodness, what are they feeding you over there?"

Matthew stiffened as she reached him, her hands already on his shoulders, squeezing as if measuring his growth. He resisted the urge to step back, his entire body rigid under the weight of her inspection.

"Uh... yeah. I'm back."

Dawn's eyes wide as she took a step back to take in Matthew's frame. "He's so huge! Does he play any sports?" Helen chuckled, shaking her head. "No, he works out. He actually doesn't like the outdoors that much."

Dawn raised a brow, smirking as she looked back at Matthew. "Really now? With that build, I would've thought you were into football or something."

"Mmmmm, Matthew ha! Don't waste all that muscle in the gym, take basketball, volleyball!" Matthew grimaced slightly at heis aunt's comment. He darted a glance at his mother silently pleasing for an intervention, but she merely shrugged with an amusement curling her lips upward as if to say he was on his own.

"I'll talk to your Tito ha? He was a star athlete in his days university!" Matthew shifted where he stood, feeling the weight of her attention. "Fat chance," he whispered, brushing a hand through his hair.

Just as Matthew was about to slip away from the conversation, Amor emerged from the kitchen, a dish towel draped over her arm, her brows knitting together the moment she spotted him.

"Oh, you're back. Did Felix make it home alright?" She moved with practiced ease, setting every plate and utensil perfectly as if she's done it a million times before.

For a moment, Matthew only stared, caught off guard. With all the attention that had been on him just moments ago, Felix had been pushed to the farthest corners of his mind. But now, with just a simple question, Amor had dragged him right back to that quiet street, that sagging house, and the boy standing in its doorway.

He shifted where he stood, suddenly wishing she'd asked about the weather instead.

"Yeah... he's home," he managed, leaving Amor somehow satisfied even with such a dry answer—his response alone seemed to just make her happy somewhat

"Amor, help me with the rice!"

Fernando, Amor's father, emerged from the other side of the house, carrying a large serving bowl. His presence was solid, steady, as he set the dish down on the long mahogany table. He wiped his hands against his apron before turning toward them.

"Love, Ate, Matthew," he called out, his voice carrying a warmth that made it impossible to ignore. "Come, let's eat."

The invitation was enough to shift the mood. Dawn, satisfied with shoving her nephew's attention over the cliff, finally released him and turned toward the dining area. Helen lingered for just a moment longer, her eyes sweeping over Matthew before following her sister's lead.

Dinner was a simple—perfectly intimate with overlapping voices, and the occasional burst of laughter. Refilling dishes and passing around bowls, it was almost exactly what Matthew's old life looked like at dinner apart from the palabok, the reheated kaldereta and the unfamiliar tupig, of course—they didn't have that in London.

Matthew ate, listened, nodded at the right moments, but something gnawed at him beneath the surface. He couldn't shake the feeling, that brief exchange he'd overheard still lingering in the back of his mind. His mother and aunt had dismissed it so easily, but to him, it felt... wrong. Specifically, He felt something was wrong.

What wasn't he supposed to know?

His grip on the spoon tightened slightly as he stared down at his plate. The world around him continued, lively, loud, comforting. But underneath it all, there was something else. Something unspoken, just waiting to be shed.

Later that night, when the noise had faded and the house was draped in slumber, Matthew lay awake. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar, yet the smell of the wooden beams, the distant croak of a gecko, the sound of the electric fan—it all pulled at something deep.

He turned on his side, his eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the curtains. He should sleep. He wanted to. But his mind wouldn't let go.

"What the hell was that all about?"