Chapter 7: Choosing a Home Within a Room

The spring air still carried a chill as their bus stopped in front of an upscale furniture showroom on the city's outskirts. The massive building with its thick glass windows radiated warmth from within—a renowned furniture store known for elegant designs and prices that weren't for the faint of heart.

Julian stared through the window, awed and slightly wary.

"You seriously want to go in there?" he muttered, stepping off the bus while clutching the shopping bags from yesterday's mall trip.

Nora simply walked ahead, her steps measured, her demeanor as always—cool yet unshakably firm.

"Your room is empty. I won't have my son living in what looks like a storage space," she said without turning.

Julian chuckled softly, but there was warmth in his laugh. "I was actually comfortable. A bed, a closet, a lamp. That's more than enough to live."

"You have many more clothes now," Nora countered, finally glancing back. "That closet won't suffice. And you need a proper desk. Bookshelves. A decent chair. A room that shows you belong in a home, not just squatting in one."

Julian nodded slowly. This time, he didn't argue. Though he knew furniture was a luxury he'd never dreamed of, he also knew—when Nora decided something, it happened.

The store smelled of fresh wood, synthetic leather, and scented candles. The space was vast, with warm pendant lights highlighting every meticulously arranged vignette: living rooms, kitchens, bedrooms.

Julian froze in front of a modern Scandinavian-style bed. "This thing... probably costs as much as two used motorcycles."

Nora didn't respond, just kept walking. A young staff member with a clipboard approached.

"Good afternoon, Madam, Sir. How may I assist you?"

Nora gestured to Julian. "He'll be selecting furniture for his room. Starting with a wardrobe, study desk, shelves, and anything else he needs."

Julian blinked. "I get to choose?"

"Of course. You're the one living there. Not me."

The clerk smiled warmly. "Right this way to our youth and young adult catalog. We have plenty of options."

As they moved through aisle after aisle, Julian ran his hands over every wood grain, tested drawers, sank into plush chairs, and even patted mattresses with quiet laughter.

"This one's too soft... like a cloud. Won't suit my poor bones."

Nora said nothing. Just observed. There was a faint glimmer in her eyes, like watching a child step into an amusement park for the first time.

Julian stopped at a black study desk with white drawers and a floating shelf. Simple yet sturdy. "This one... is good. Looks like a desk for someone who's going places."

"Then take it."

A small smile, then he moved to wardrobes. He picked one with sliding doors, ample hanging space, and several drawers below.

"Big enough to hold all my newfound 'luxuries'," he said with a wink, and Nora almost smiled.

They selected a cushioned office chair, an industrial-style desk lamp, and a small bookshelf. Julian also requested a compact gray sofa—for 'guests', he claimed. Those guests were likely unironed clothes and stacked books, but to him, it mattered.

As the clerk finalized the order and scheduled delivery, Julian walked back to Nora, standing tall.

"You know... this still feels like a dream, Mom."

Nora lifted her chin, studying him with calm eyes. "Dreams don't happen if you keep living on the streets and refusing change."

Julian laughed softly. "Not refusing. Just... never been offered."

Nora tilted her head. "You weren't offered. You were chosen."

That word—*chosen*—vibrated in Julian's chest harder than anything. And as he followed Nora out with the order confirmation in hand, he realized one thing:

This wasn't just a room.

This was the beginning of a new life.

---

After nearly an hour of browsing, testing, and debating chair colors for a "reading nook", they stood before the custom furniture service counter.

The clerk—the same clipboard-toting young woman—was tallying their extensive list into the system.

"Madam, here's your order summary," she said, handing Nora a tablet.

Julian peeked at the screen. When his eyes landed on the total at the bottom, his body stiffened instantly.

**$6,740.88**

He coughed. "That's... for one small room?"

The clerk smiled politely. "A highly functional, modern space. Premium materials, delivery and assembly included, with a five-year warranty on all components."

Julian side-eyed Nora. "You're sure? That's enough to feed a family for a year..."

Nora didn't respond, just tapped the approval button. "Money is only a burden if not used for what matters."

She slid a metallic card from her slim wallet, swiped it calmly, and completed the payment as if buying a candy bar at a convenience store. No frown, no hesitation, not even small talk.

Julian looked down. His thoughts hammered at the last remnants of his pride. "You didn't have to... go this far..."

"You weren't about to suggest I furnish your room with secondhand donations, were you?"

A small, abashed smile. "I once slept under a dining table at the orphanage for two weeks when beds were full..."

Nora turned to him. That gaze—sharp, yet with something wounded beneath.

"Starting today, you'll never sleep under a table again."

Julian went still. His body was quiet, but his soul boiled. Not at the price—but because for the first time, someone had deemed him worth fighting for. Worth a sliding-door wardrobe. Worth a tiny sofa just so he could have "a corner of his own".

"Delivery is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon," the clerk said. "Everything will be assembled in your home, Madam."

Nora nodded. "Good."

As they exited, Julian glanced back. His reflection in the glass showed a high school senior in a worn hoodie holding plastic bags. Yet now... he was a boy who'd soon sleep in a bed he'd chosen himself.

"Mom...," he murmured.

"Yes?"

Julian met her eyes solemnly. "I don't know how to repay this. But you should know... I'll never forget it."

Nora studied him, unsmiling. Yet her words were the first invisible embrace.

"Repayment isn't necessary. Just live well."

And they walked down the city's broad sidewalks side by side—like two unfamiliar shadows beginning to merge. A wealthy woman who hid her gold, and a street kid unaware he'd just been hugged by heaven.