The corridor smelled of tea leaves and toasted bread.
Hailey paused just beyond her bedroom door, hand resting lightly on the familiar wall groove where furniture had scraped years ago. Voices carried from the dining room — her mother's low cadence, the scrape of chair legs, the soft clink of crockery.
Ordinary morning sounds.
Extraordinary now.
She stepped forward.
The dining room lay sunlit and unchanged — the same oval table polished to a warm sheen, lace runner centred with habitual precision, sunlight filtering through patterned curtains in shifting gold squares across the floor.
Her mother stood at the sideboard, back turned, pouring tea.
Her father sat at the table with his reading glasses low on his nose, newspaper half-open, posture slightly stooped in the way age had introduced quietly over the years. Grey had deepened at his temples. The lines beside his mouth were more pronounced.
He looked smaller.
The thought struck before she could soften it — and with it, a sudden, piercing awareness of time passed elsewhere.
"Mama," she said softly.
Her mother turned first, face lighting at once. "You're awake—"
Her father looked up.
For a fraction of a second he did not move.
The newspaper lowered slowly from his hands.
He stared at her as though distance had distorted recognition — as though his mind required time to reconcile the woman before him with the daughter who had left years earlier.
"Hailey," he said.
It was not spoken loudly. It did not need to be.
"Papa."
The chair scraped sharply as he stood.
He crossed the room in three steps and gathered her into his arms.
Unlike her mother's embrace, his was firm — solid, anchoring, the hold of someone confirming reality through touch. His chin pressed briefly against her hair. She felt the familiar breadth of his shoulders, the steady rise and fall of breath that had once meant absolute safety.
"You are here," he said roughly.
"I am."
He leaned back, hands still on her shoulders, studying her face with open intensity. "You came without telling us."
"I wanted to surprise you."
"You did more than that," he said, voice thickening. "You returned."
Emotion rose unexpectedly into her throat.
Before she could answer, another voice cut in from the hallway.
"So it's true."
Her brother leaned in the doorway, hair rumpled, T-shirt creased from sleep, expression caught between disbelief and delight.
"Hailey?"
She turned.
"Daniel."
He crossed the room in two long strides and lifted her clear off the floor in a crushing hug that drove the breath from her lungs.
"You vanished to another continent," he accused into her shoulder, laughing. "You send photos. Occasional messages. Then suddenly you just appear in the house like a ghost."
"I prefer dramatic entrances," she said, muffled.
He set her down but kept one arm slung around her shoulders, looking at her with frank inspection. "You look… the same."
"You don't."
"Rude."
"True."
He grinned. "Also true."
Their mother made a soft, emotional sound. "Sit, all of you. The tea is getting cold and I have made enough food for six people because I could not sleep after she arrived."
"You arrived at dawn?" Daniel said.
"Four."
"Of course you did," he muttered. "Maximum theatrical impact."
Their father pulled out her chair with quiet ceremony. "Sit, daughter."
She sat.
Plates appeared — mandazi, sliced fruit, eggs, warm bread, honey, tea poured dark and fragrant. The table filled quickly with the abundance of a house that measured love in food.
For a moment they simply looked at her — as though reacquainting themselves with presence rather than image.
"You are home for good?" her mother asked softly.
"Yes."
The word settled into the room.
Daniel leaned back, satisfied. "Good. Nerua has been unbearably dull without you."
Her father nodded once, deep and certain. "Home is correct."
Hailey wrapped her hands around her teacup, warmth seeping into her palms.
Outside, late-morning sun filled the garden. Inside, voices overlapped, questions began, laughter returned to familiar rhythms.
The table held them all again.
And for the first time since stepping off the plane, Hailey felt the quiet truth settle fully into place.
She had come back.
Not visiting.
Returned.