Knock, knock, knock.
"Who is it?" Jordan called, he was shock didn't expected that.
A muffled voice replied through the door, bright and teasing.
"What do you mean, 'Who is it?' Are you serious? Mom's cooking breakfast, and she said we all better be ready before she's done so we can eat together or something like that!"
His breath caught.
That voice.
That voice.
His little sister.
Alive.
Talking.
Just outside his door.
Jordan's hands began to shake. He tries to move bit didn't like any sudden movement might shatter the illusion but he actually moved the system screen closes.
He opened the door
But the hallway was empty.
She was already gone.
He stood frozen, trying to breathe, but it felt like the air had turned to water. His bare feet touched the cool wooden floor. A familiar scent curled into his nose butter and cinnamon toast… eggs sizzling, plantains frying.
His knees nearly buckled.
This wasn't a dream.
Or maybe it was. But if it was, he didn't want to wake up.
He moved like a ghost down the hallway, afraid that one blink, one wrong step, and it would all vanish. But it didn't. The smells only grew stronger, warmer pulling him in like a childhood memory begging to be relived.
And when he turned the corner into the kitchen…
He stopped breathing.
There.
They were there.
His mother stood at the stove, humming softly. That old Motown song she used to sing when she thought no one was listening. Her hips swayed gently, a spatula in one hand, the other holding the frying pan steady as she flipped the eggs with the rhythm of a ritual. Her floral apron was on backward. Her bun was messy and perfect.
Sunlight kissed her shoulders.
Jordan's mouth opened, but no words came.
His heart wasn't just pounding it was screaming.
"Mom…"
It slipped out, a whisper broken in half.
Clara turned slightly, smiling. "Well, good morning to you too, baby."
That voice. It hadn't aged a day. It was warm enough to shatter him.
Jordan's legs moved on their own. He closed the distance in two quick steps and threw his arms around her from behind. He didn't care that the pan was still in her hand. He just needed to feel her.
He held her tight too tight burying his face in the back of her shoulder like he was seven again and scared of thunderstorms.
"Jordan?" she said, startled. "You okay, sweetie? You haven't hugged me like this since you were ten."
He couldn't answer. His throat was too tight.
Tears streamed down his cheeks. He couldn't stop them. Wouldn't even try.
"I just…" he gasped. "I missed you. I missed your voice. Your warmth. I missed everything. I love you so much, Mom."
Her body stilled. Then her hand came up and gently touched his arm, her voice softer now.
"Aww, baby. I love you too. But… you saw me last night."
She laughed a little. "You see me every day. What's going on with you?"
He pulled back, just enough to see her face alive, glowing, real.
"Yeah," he whispered. "But not like this…"
Not when your picture was all I had left.
"Boy!" a voice boomed from the table. "If you don't get your hands off my wife, I might forget you're my second oldest and throw hands!"
Jordan turned, tears still on his cheeks.
There. He was there.
His dad sat at the table, reading the morning paper, coffee in his old chipped mug. His mechanic's uniform looked cleaner than it had in years. His hands usually cracked and rough looked younger. His face was still grizzled, but the heaviness he once carried was… gone.
"Good morning, Dad…" Jordan said, voice shaking. "It's… you."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Of course it's me. Who else were you expecting, Denzel Washington?"
He chuckled and folded the paper. "You alright, son? Didn't sleep well?"
Jordan looked at him really looked and his lip quivered.
"No… I just… I'm so happy to see you guys."
Daniel's brow furrowed. "You sick or something?"
They didn't know.
They had no idea they'd once been taken from him.
Jordan gripped the back of a chair to steady himself. His legs were trembling now. His chest felt too full. His vision blurred again.
"Jordan?" His mom's voice grew gentle. "You look pale. Like you've seen a ghost."
He nodded quickly, trying to laugh, trying to smile, but it came out broken.
"I… yeah. I guess I did. I just… I had a really bad dream."
She turned to him, wiping her hands on a towel, then reached up and cupped his face. Her hand smelled like vanilla and soap.
"My poor baby," Clara said, brushing a tear from his cheek.
Daniel lowered his paper again. "Dreams don't usually turn grown men into crybabies," he muttered, but even he looked concerned now.
Then Jordan turned, still crying and sees Mina his little sister she barreled into the room, cereal bowl in hand, her oversized anime hoodie swallowing her frame. Jordan hugs he tightly
"GET OFF ME, CREEP!"
A sharp shriek shattered the quiet.
"Jordan! Ew! What's with all the hugging? You're being WEIRD."
He hadn't even realized he'd hugged her his body moved on its own but in his mind he needed to know she was real too and he did.
"You're usually a zombie in the morning," she added, eyeing him with suspicion. "What, you get a girlfriend or something?"
"Yeah!" came a squeaky voice from the hallway.
Jace his little brother marched in, tiny fists wrapped around a juice box, his cartoon pajamas dragging at his ankles.
"You're smiling too much," he declared. "It's suspicious."
Jordan scooped him up and spun him in the air, laughing through the tears.
"I'm just… in a good mood," he said, hugging Jace tight before ruffling both their heads.
Mina slapped his hand away. "Ugh. Stop it. You're acting like the main character in a sad anime."
Jordan grinned through watery eyes. "I'm trying not to tho."
Daniel narrowed his eyes. "Your son's acting strange, Bae."
Clara placed a warm plate in front of Jordan. "Let him be. Happiness is rare these days."
Daniel grunted. "Yeah… guess you're right."
Jordan looked down.
Scrambled eggs. Toast. Plantains.
The same plate she used to make him before every Saturday morning.
His lip trembled again.
"Thank you," he whispered, barely audible.
Clara smiled and gently patted his cheek. "Eat."
He picked up the fork with shaking fingers. His vision swam. He brought the first bite to his mouth.
And when the flavor hit his tongue…
He broke.
He let the tears fall silently, shoulders shaking as he chewed, tasting the love, the memory, the miracle on the plate.
It tasted like home.
And for the first time in a very long time
He felt like he was home.