Chapter 5: A Place to Begin Again

The fourth house visit wasn't supposed to feel any different.

Elira had already walked through three—each one disappointing in its own unique way. Peeling walls. Strange smells. And what not.

This one looked… small. Tired, even. The paint on the gate had faded into an unsure color between grey and beige. But there was something about the way the front steps dipped slightly like they had stories to tell—quiet ones.

Elira tugged her sleeves down nervously as she stood outside the front door.

An older woman stood there. Stoic expression, dressed in a thick blue cardigan despite the mild weather. Her eyes narrowed slightly at Elira, not out of hostility—but that vague suspicion older people reserve for unfamiliar energy.

Before Elira could fumble through a greeting, a soft voice chimed in behind the woman.

"Hello, are you Miss Elira?" A young man stepped forward from the doorway, around his grandmother. Mid-20s maybe, gentle brown eyes, hair loosely pushed back like he hadn't tried too hard but still looked clean and approachable.

"Yes—hi," she replied, her voice steadier than she expected.

He smiled. "I'm Caelum. I help my grandmother with the house. She understands a bit of English, but I'll translate most of it for you."

Elira nodded, her shoulders lowering just a little.

Caelum glanced at his grandmother, who nodded briskly, then gestured toward the entrance.

"Come in, please."

The house had the kind of quiet that only long-forgotten homes held. Dust had settled in places, and the air inside carried a faint musty smell. Still, sunlight filtered in through the thin curtains like it was trying to prove something. The bones of the house were strong.

"She said," Caelum translated with a smile, "the house has been empty for a while, so some things need fixing. But she's okay covering the cost."

Elira nodded, looking around. "It's… not bad. Honestly, I think it has potential."

Caelum grinned. "That's what she said too. She didn't want to rent it to just anyone."

His grandmother watched Elira closely, her stern face softening just barely.

There was a small negotiation. Rent wasn't perfect, but it was better than the rest. They met in the middle.

Something about the house—its quiet resilience, its charm buried under dust—matched something in Elira she hadn't named yet.

—

After the meeting, when Caelum had gone to get a copy of the rental papers, Elira stepped into the small backyard. A single tree stood awkwardly near the wall, its branches long and a bit wild — like it had grown in solitude, unchecked, but still reaching for light.

She sat on the edge of the stone planter.

For the first time in weeks, her chest loosened. Not because everything was solved—but because she'd taken a step. A real one. And the house—flawed, dusty, and stubbornly alive—felt like the right beginning.

She let the silence wrap around her, soft and complete.

She breathed in deeply. Took her phone out from her bag, opened the notes app, and started typing something.

Maybe things didn't need to be perfect to move forward.

Maybe solutions didn't arrive all at once—they unfolded, little by little. Quietly. Honestly.

She smiled to herself, barely.

Just as she stood to head back inside, she heard Caelum's voice from the door.

"The paperwork's ready—oh, and she wants to give you homemade pickles when you move in. She makes great ones."

Elira blinked, then let out a laugh—light, real, and surprised.

This wasn't exactly the kind of turning point she imagined.

But maybe it was exactly the kind she needed.