Ella_GI

After five years in the city chasing a career that slowly burned her out, Mira Ellis returns to her quiet hometown with nothing but exhaustion, memories, and the echo of her father’s legacy. She tells herself it’s temporary—a pause, not a full stop.

But the town she left has shifted in small, meaningful ways. Her childhood home feels both familiar and foreign. Her best friend, Zuri, is still a hurricane of warmth. And then there’s Darian Carter—the quiet carpenter whose voice carries through the town meeting like a hammer to the heart.

They weren’t close back then, and they don’t exactly start off on the right foot now. His words sting. Hers cut back. But as the tension between them simmers, something else stirs beneath it—something deeper, something that neither of them are quite ready for.

As Mira begins to uncover what she’s really running from—grief, pressure, and the ghost of a dream—she must ask herself a question that terrifies her more than failure ever did:

What if coming home isn’t about a place at all?

The Way Back "sometimes home is a person "

The late afternoon sun spilled golden light through the wide kitchen window, casting shadows that stretched across the wooden floor. Mira sat at the table, gently tracing the rim of her teacup, her mind still spinning from the full day she'd just had.

It was strange—how both everything and nothing had changed.

The roads still cracked in the same places. The bakery still sold those over-glazed sugar buns. And Zuri? Still the same whirlwind of laughter, stories, and sass. But Mira felt different. She was different.

She leaned back and exhaled slowly.

"I forgot how warm the breeze is here," she said aloud, more to herself than anyone else.

Upstairs, her mom was humming softly, folding laundry. It felt good, that sound. Grounding.

Mira reached into her bag and pulled out the sketchbook she hadn't touched in months. Its cover was worn, corners bent. She flipped through the old pages—buildings, towers, designs that once excited her. That once meant something.

A rough, unfinished pencil sketch caught her eye—a small cabin, overgrown with ivy, nestled beneath tall trees. It wasn't from the city. It wasn't a client project. It looked… familiar.

The kind of thing her father used to draw.

She smiled faintly, then closed the book and stood.

She wandered out into the backyard, drawn by the deep amber glow of the evening sky. The fence still had that one broken panel. The garden was mostly weeds now, but the scent of jasmine still lingered from somewhere.

Mira turned quickly, only to laugh as a scruffy brown dog bounded toward her, tail wagging furiously.

"Benson?" she said, crouching. "You're still alive?"

The dog whined and nuzzled into her arms like no time had passed.

"I told you he still roams," her mom called from the porch, smiling. "He always liked you best."

Mira grinned and rubbed behind the dog's ears. "He remembers."

As the sun dipped below the trees, the quiet around them settled like a soft blanket. For the first time in a long time, Mira felt like she could breathe—really breathe.

"You better not ghost me again."

"Also, town meeting tomorrow—might be fun (or hilarious). You in?"

Mira stared at the screen, thumb hovering.

She wasn't sure yet if she was in for anything. But maybe... dipping her toe back into local life wouldn't hurt.

Okay... I'm in