Home

Faintly, or rather massively but not coming to terms with it, missing him. Nothing will ever be as simple as twenty, and the way he loved me with no composure. Long walks, long conversations, loud laughs, butterflies. How fate played its course and led us down different paths. Five years in, and am still not over him.

Sitting on the edge of my window, staring at the city full of lights through the glass pane, legs slightly crossed, and hands resting on my knees drawn up to my chest. My very dark hair with blonde highlights, put up in a low bun using a silver claw pin, reflecting my life. Missing home. My two lovely brothers, mom, and dad.

I have done it all. Traveled the world, met new people, learned new cultures, explored cities, ate all I wanted. Now it is time to return home. To settle down, to take care of mom and dad. Possibly find a partner and start a new family. Will I be able to do that?

Author's Voice

She remembers, two years ago, when she left her country and hometown, to come out here to truly live. That was her true pursuit, she claimed. She took out all her savings and embarked on a journey she looked forward to excitedly. This was her dream, and it was everything she imagined. Purposeful, fulfilling, enlightening, adventurous, risky, and most importantly, she lived to the fullest.

The night sky was full of stars tonight, or maybe they were satellites; she couldn't care less. It was breathtaking. The night was as busy as always, and it felt so unreal that this was her last night here. She couldn't sleep, just like the night she left home two years ago. The luxurious cars, the skyscrapers, aah! Dubai was to die for. However, she knew she wanted to go back home, just like how she knew she wanted to come out here.

She understands that true happiness is being with the people who love you most and care about you as much as you care about them. She turns around to look at her big suitcase, full of gifts for her family and friends. She smiles as she pictures their reactions when they receive those gifts. She can't be happier making her loved ones happy. Even thousands of miles away from them, she can't help but always think of them. Ayyih (her little brother and the lastborn) must be so tall now, and Kilam (her other baby brother)—I hope he's still a gentleman. I can't wait to see them.

"Prringh, prringh…" she hears her phone ringing. She stares at it to see Ayyih video calling her. She is surprised. She was just thinking of him. He will live for a long time.

Sirah's POV

"How come Ayyih is calling me?" He rarely does it. Even after pestering him to call me often, he turned a deaf ear, and I always take the initiative to call him first. And when I do, he contributes little to the conversation. Chatting with your baby brother is like simping to a disinterested guy.

I excitedly swipe up to answer the call, only to see my mom and dad's faces. What could I expect from Ayyih? He just called me for my parents' requests.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Ramos, how have you been?" I shout to greet them. "Show us some respect, lady. It's mommy and daddy," my father responds jokingly, after seeing my mom not really pleased with me addressing them informally like that.

I know dad isn't really bothered by my humor, in fact, he likes it, but we all know mom demands total respect. Well, she should chill a bit. I dare not upset her further, and I instinctively change the topic.

"I miss you guys so much. I miss your food, mama." Mom likes it when I call her that, and she usually gets really emotional. She immediately looks pleased.

"Then come back home sooner. I'll cook all your favorite delicacies. You promised you'd be returning home this year. We are already four months in. When are you coming back?" As expected, she bombards me with her concerns.

"Soon, mama. Soon," I respond.

"When is soon? You've been telling me that for the last few months. You do realize you have to get married and have kids? Come back home, dear. Or do you have a man already? You can tell us, we are really open-minded parents, right?" she says, looking at dad, who is expected to agree with her.

"What? ... Oh, oh yes, yes," my father agrees, but his facial expressions totally sells him out. Dad does not like the idea of me being married. I know that for sure.

To ease mama's worries, I tend to support her concerns. "I know, mama, that's why I'm dealing with my papers and coming home next month. Trust me, next month I'll be one room away, not a call away."

"Really?" I hear Ayyih in the background.

"Yeah, really," I respond.

"Okay, go back to sleep now. I know it's late that other side of the world. I hope you keep your word." Mama then wishes me goodnight and bye.

"Bye, mama. Talk to you soon. I'm hanging up." I hang up smiling.

They don't know I'll be surprising them tomorrow. I can imagine their faces. They'll probably be in tears. I can't wait to breathe the air and touch the soil of home.

I decide to retire to my bed and hopefully get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long and tiring day. I curl in my bed, covering my tiny body with my duvet, and shut my eyelids. I see his face.

He was smiling, staring at me as if I was the most beautiful woman in this universe. I quickly open my eyes. It's been so many years already, but he's still the last thing that comes to my mind when I sleep and the first thing when I wake up. I can't help but wonder if he still thinks about me too, even if it's as rare as once every three months.

I wonder if he has changed. If he still holds his humor. If he's still short-tempered. If he's still cute. If he still remembers the pinky promise he made to me. If he still likes me.

"Aagh! It's so frustrating that I have to think about him again. Poor man. He must be so tired running through my mind," I jokingly say to myself, with a bittersweet soul.

I don't remember when I slept, but I woke almost one hour to my flight. Typical of me. I have never been punctual. Thank God, my hotel was just thirty minutes away from the airport. My bags were already packed and ready, and I had already checked out. I quickly run to take a five-minute shower. Put on my baggy, official-like pants, and a casual long-sleeved light-material top, just in case the weather is hot back home. I also didn't forget my coat, as it's usually chilly on the plane.

I rush down my hotel, with my sunglasses and black mask on, hop on a taxi, and reach the airport five minutes late, only to hear that the flight has been delayed for another hour. I sigh in relief and disappointment at the same time. I know probably, I would have missed the flight, but what do you mean I have to sit in the lobby for another hour?

I have no choice, so I decide to read a romantic genre story on WebNovel. I scroll through to find a blue-covered book that looked antique, titled "Hope Tomorrow is Ours." It strikes my attention.

"Mmmh…interesting," I murmur. Sounds relatable. I start reading it as I await my flight back home, wishing in the near future, is meant for you and me, ours.