19 Homecoming (2)

Coming home always felt like a warm blanket on a cold winter night, and it was no different for Sam.

His dad was at the doorway, his hand steadying Sam's suitcase, guiding him into the house.

As soon as Sam stepped inside, he felt the familiar atmosphere hug him.

The well-worn sofa in the living room cradled his mom, a book comfortably nestled in her lap.

Her face was adorned with subtle signs of maturity, a testament to her years. Yet, she radiated a youthful beauty and grace that seemed impervious to the passage of time.

As his dad announced his arrival, he watched her look up.

The surprise in her eyes quickly morphed into pure joy, a smile illuminating her face.

Before she could even get up from the sofa, Sam dropped his bags haphazardly near the door and rushed towards her.

He felt like a kid running to his mom after a long day at school.

Emotions welled up within him as he wrapped his arms around her.

The comforting smell of her hair filled his senses, bringing back a surge of childhood memories.

He felt her warmth seep into him, reminding him of the safety he'd missed so much in the city's hustle and bustle.

He closed his eyes, allowing his tears to fall freely, each drop soaking his mother's shoulder and marking the reunion with its emotional intensity.

His mom went stiff for a second, surprised by the sudden outburst. But almost instantly, she melted into his embrace, her hands rubbing comforting circles on his back.

Her voice filled with worry; she asked, "Sam, what's wrong, honey? Why are you crying?"

Pulling back slightly, Sam quickly wiped his eyes with his hand.

A small, shaky smile curled up his lips as he looked at his mom.

He tried to steady his voice, saying, "I just... I missed you guys, Mom. That's all."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but the sincerity in his words was deafening.

The city had its charms, but nothing could match the comfort of being in his childhood home with his mom and dad.

This was a piece of his heart that he had left behind, and now, finally, he was home to reclaim it.

Sam's father, Ryan, quietly observed the emotional reunion from the side, a soft look replacing his usually stern gaze.

His eyes were brimming with an indescribable warmth as he saw his son hugging his wife, a moment full of raw, pure emotion.

Maya, Sam's mother, gently comforted their son, sharing in his tears before leading him to his old bedroom, a room full of memories that held a special place in Sam's heart.

Walking into his old room was like stepping back in time.

His eyes darted around the room, taking in all the nostalgic details.

The faded posters of his favorite bands on the wall, the old toys piled in the corner, and the worn-out books on the shelf all held echoes of his past.

Every single thing was a vivid reminder of a time when life was simpler, carefree, and full of laughter and joy.

Memories swirled around him, a gentle reminder of his younger self, an innocent boy with wide, hopeful eyes and big dreams.

A boy who wanted to change the world, driven by ambition and unbridled enthusiasm.

How different he was from the man he'd become, the man who had been swallowed up by the corporate world. This man had chased after money and power relentlessly.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed deeply.

A sense of melancholy filled the room.

He muttered aloud, "If you're always chasing after money, it's a race without a finish line. But if you strive for excellence, that passion lasts a lifetime."

His words echoed around the empty room, a stark reminder of his personal philosophy.

Looking around, he couldn't help but notice the pristine condition of the room.

Evidently, his mother had been maintaining it with meticulous care, probably hoping for his return.

The realization made him smile. He got to work, opening his bags and carefully arranging his belongings.

As he sorted his stuff, he came across the presents he had brought for his parents.

He felt a thrill of excitement as he took them out.

After all, he was about to see the smiles on his parents' faces, a sight worth more than any fortune he'd amassed in the city.

Holding the carefully selected presents, Sam headed towards his dad, Ryan. He was engrossed in his daily routine, comfortably lounging in his cherished armchair with the day's newspaper spread before him.

A familiar scene that reminded Sam of countless mornings growing up.

"Dad, I got something for you," Sam started nervously, holding out the neatly wrapped package.

"Don't worry, I didn't splurge or anything. Just a little something I thought you'd appreciate."

Ryan glanced up from his paper, his eyes landing on the gift in Sam's hands.

A smile graced his face, appreciating his son's gesture.

"Thanks, kiddo," he replied, taking the gift from Sam.

He placed it gently on the small table beside his chair, leaving it unopened.

It was a little tradition between them, a silent understanding.

Ryan preferred to open his gifts in solitude, cherishing the sentiment behind them in his own quiet way.

Sam, knowing this, didn't press him further.

"So, Dad, how's the crossword going?" Sam asked, changing the subject smoothly.

"Need a hand with any tricky ones?"

Ryan chuckled, "Let's see if the city life has dulled your brain, Sam. Help me out with this one here."

Their conversation flowed easily, a heartwarming scene of a father and son catching up on lost time.

It was simple moments like these that Sam had missed the most, moments he was glad to have back.

Having shared a cherished moment with his father, Sam turned his steps towards the heart of their home - the kitchen.

His mother, Maya, was bustling around, her hands working magic as they always did.

The familiar aroma of home-cooked food filled the air, making his stomach rumble in anticipation.

"Mom, I have something for you, too," he chimed in, interrupting her busy dance around the kitchen.

He presented her with another wrapped package, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes.

Maya looked pleasantly surprised, wiping her hands on her apron before accepting the gift.

"Oh, what's this?" she asked, gently unraveling the package.

Her eyes lit up when she saw what was inside.

"Sam, it's beautiful! This hairpin, with the delicate pink and white Chrysanthemum... it's absolutely perfect," she gushed, her eyes shimmering with appreciation.

Her joyous reaction brought a wide grin to Sam's face.

"I'm glad you like it, Mom. Maybe you can get Dad to help you put it on later," he suggested, his voice laced with light-hearted teasing.

Maya blushed at the idea, playfully swatting at Sam's arm.

"Oh, stop it! First day back and you're already teasing your old mom," she said, her voice feigning annoyance, but her sparkling eyes told a different story.

Sam laughed, loving the familiar banter that he had missed so much.

"Alright, alright, I'll leave you to your cooking then. I can't wait for dinner; smells amazing already!"

With that, he left the kitchen, a warm feeling spreading through him.

Being back home was more wonderful than he had anticipated.

Sam made himself comfortable and flicked on the TV, feeling the comforting familiarity of his old living room.

The array of channels, some new, some just as he remembered, spread out before him.

His father joined him shortly, plopping down next to him with a thoughtful expression.

"Sam," Ryan began, breaking the comfortable silence, "how are things going for you in the city? Do you need some extra cash? Any financial help?"

Sam was caught off guard; his father's sudden seriousness surprised him.

It took a moment for him to register that this was his dad's way of extending a helping hand.

"Dad, I'm doing alright. In fact, I've started a company there, and it's thriving," Sam shared, trying to ease his father's concern.

"A company? Do you need any advice or help with that?" Ryan quickly jumped in, his tone becoming more enthusiastic. "I have a few friends who could lend a hand."

"No need for that, Dad," Sam assured him. "The company's doing more than fine. We're actually earning in millions."

But the revelation seemed to have the opposite effect on Ryan, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown.

"Millions? Come on, Sam, be honest with me. If you were a millionaire, your face would be plastered all over the internet. Don't try to pull my leg."

Sam could only stare at his father, momentarily speechless.

He hadn't anticipated this reaction.

He decided to drop the subject for now and turned his attention back to the flickering TV screen.

Rubbing his forehead, Sam mulled over his predicament.

His dad's skepticism was a more rigid barrier than he'd expected.

'Maybe it's time to make them a part of my company; that should convince them. They'd have to believe me then, right?' he pondered.

An idea began to take form.

'I'll get a lawyer to arrange things tomorrow,' he resolved, feeling a sense of excitement.