Page 52 of Always Been You
It’s been years, but the sight of it knocks the breath out of me like a punch to the gut. The familiarity of it is almost cruel—the way nothing but everything has really changed. It still carries the crisp scent of fresh-cut grass, clean stone, and the subtle perfume of the gardenias that always bloomed near the entrance—the way it holds pieces of my past like they’re waiting for me to reclaim them.
I know her family never moved, but I miscalculated what it would feel like to stand here again and see the life I once had, still intact, as if frozen in time. If I was going to visit them eventually, I suppose it’s better to face it all at once. Maybe if I rip off the bandage now, it’ll hurt less later.
But deep down, I know that’s a lie.
Some things don’t stop hurting with time. You just learn to carry them differently.
Besides, my wife’s family lives here. And if Lawliss wants me to face my past, then I will. For her.
“I wasn’t sure...” she starts hesitantly, her voice careful, as if she expects me to turn back.
“It’s perfect,” I interrupt, my voice steady.
“Isn’t it too much? I mean, I didn’t think—” she trails off, biting her lip.
“It’s fine, Lynx,” I reassure her. “I should meet everyone eventually.”
She studies me for a second longer before nodding. “If you say so. But if you want us to go back, just let me know.”
I chuckle, stepping forward as my eyes sweep over the landscape. The old sycamore tree still stands tall, its branches stretching wide, a silent witness to childhood laughter and whispered secrets.
I glance to my left. There used to be a small gate that led to my house—the same gate we all used to rush through to each other’s homes every day after school. Now, it’s blocked off.
I bought the house when it went up for sale years ago, but like everything tied to this place, I never found the will to clear it out or be here.
“This place hasn’t changed much,” I murmur, my voice carrying something softer than nostalgia, something closer to grief.
She doesn’t say anything; she just reaches for my hand, her fingers curling around mine. Then signs Josh to join us. I squeeze back, grounding myself. One step at a time.
We step into the foyer, and I pause. Of course, the Duas would go all out.
The air feels different in here. It’s full, buzzing like it’s been waiting for something. The ceiling is crowded with black and white balloons, their strings dangling low enough to brush against fingertips. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes me hesitate, not sure whether to take it in or brace myself.
The scent of fresh flowers clings to everything, layered with something warm, something sweet; vanilla, maybe caramel. A long table stretches across the dining room, draped in soft black and white fabric, which seems to be the theme. Candles flicker between trays of pastries and a simple chocolate cake with Happy Birthday, Edmund written on it.
It’s too perfect, all of it, like something out of a life that doesn’t belong to me anymore.
I stopped celebrating my birthday after the accident.
My grandparents tried the first year I lived with them. I didn’t react well. I’m embarrassed about it now, but I’m glad they respected my wishes. At first, I think they wanted to do everything they could for me, but over time, they stopped trying to intrude. Not like the Dua’s have now. Because whether I like it or not, they are my second family.
I exhale, shaking my head slightly. “Subtle,” I mutter, glancing at Lawliss.
She just laughs, nudging me gently. “You know how they are.”
Yeah. I do.
We step closer, and then—pop! A burst of sound from the kitchen, followed by giggles and a chorus of “Happy birthday to you...” floating in from every direction, voices overlapping, out of sync but full of energy.
“Wow,” Josh murmurs, taking it all in.
I chuckle because he hasn’t seen anything yet. The moment feels surreal, almost ridiculous, but in the best way possible. And then, as if on cue, Andrei, Lawliss’s father, bursts out from behind a doorway, wearing a pointed party hat, belting out the song like it’s a grand performance.
I laugh outright. The song ends in a mix of cheers and applause.
“You enlisted everyone,” I murmur near Lawliss’s ear.
She smiles, her gaze locking onto mine—that gaze, the one that melts me every time. “Happy birthday, Ed,” she says softly, then leans in to kiss my cheek.
