The taxi slowed down and pulled over to the curb with a soft hiss of brakes. Michael looked out the window as Liam reached forward, tapping his phone against the blue payment pad mounted on the dashboard. The device chimed softly, processing the transaction in seconds.
"Come on," Liam said, stepping out onto the sidewalk. He gestured with his hand toward a modest two-story building. "Home sweet home."
Michael climbed out of the taxi and looked up at the house. It was simple but well-maintained—white walls with blue shutters, a small front yard with trimmed grass, and a red sedan parked in the driveway. The building wasn't much bigger than Martha's house had been, but something about it felt different. Warmer, somehow.
'This is really happening,' he thought, staring at what was supposedly his home.
As they walked up the sidewalk, an elderly woman tending to her garden next door looked up and waved at them.
"Michael!" she called out with a warm smile. "How are you feeling, dear? We were all so worried—"
"He's doing much better, Mrs. Chen," Liam interrupted smoothly, stepping slightly in front of Michael. "Doctor says he just needs rest and his memory should come back gradually."
Mrs. Chen nodded sympathetically. "Well, you tell your mother if she needs anything, anything at all, we're right here."
Liam turned to Michael with a gentle smile. "Mrs. Chen has been asking about you every day since the accident."
Michael managed a small wave. "Thank you," he said quietly, though the woman's face meant nothing to him.
As they continued toward the house, Michael noticed more of his surroundings. The neighborhood looked almost normal—except for the occasional reminder that this wasn't his world. A police car floated past overhead, moving silently through the air as it patrolled the area.
'Maybe this place isn't so different from home after all,' he mused. 'Just a little more... advanced.'
Liam pressed the doorbell, and the sound echoed inside. After a few seconds, he pressed it again, more insistently. "She's probably got her headphones on again. Sophie's always listening to something when she studies."
"I'm coming!" The voice from inside was clear and composed. "Just give me a moment!"
The door opened to reveal a young woman with long black hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. She looked at Liam with a raised eyebrow, then her gaze shifted to Michael, and her expression immediately softened.
"You brought him home," she said simply, her voice carrying a weight of relief.
"As promised," Liam replied with a small smile.
Sophie stepped forward without hesitation and wrapped her arms around Michael. The hug was firm but gentle, full of genuine care. She had the same dark hair as him, the same pale skin, and eyes that held an intelligence and warmth he'd never seen directed at him before. She looked maybe a year or two older.
The embrace hit Michael like a physical blow. Her arms were warm and strong, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. It had been so long since someone held him like they actually cared.
'When was the last time someone hugged me like this?' he thought, his chest tightening. 'Even mom... even mom stopped hugging me after dad left. She was always so tired, so distant.'
"I'm glad you're safe," Sophie whispered against his shoulder. "We've all been worried."
Michael's arms came up slowly to return the embrace. "I'm fine, sister."
"Come inside," Sophie said, stepping back and taking his hand. "I've been preparing something for your return."
As they stepped inside, she glanced at Liam with a knowing look. "You stayed with him the whole time, didn't you?"
Liam shrugged, trying to look casual. "Someone had to make sure he didn't try to escape through the window."
The interior of the house was simple but comfortable. The living room had a well-worn couch and family photos on the walls. Michael's eyes caught on one particular photo on the mantle—him, Sophie, and their mother smiling at the camera. But there was a fourth person in the picture, their face carefully torn away, leaving only a shoulder and part of an arm visible.
'Who was that?' he wondered, but didn't ask.
"Come, sit down," Sophie said, guiding him to the dining table. "You must be exhausted from everything."
Michael settled into a chair that felt familiar somehow, like his body remembered this spot even if his mind didn't. The table was set for four people—plates, forks, glasses of water already poured. In the center sat something covered with a blue checkered cloth, and the smell coming from underneath made his stomach growl.
Liam dropped into the chair across from him with his usual casual grace. "It's good to have you back home, man. That hospital was getting depressing."
"You didn't have to stay," Michael said quietly.
"Of course I did. That's what friends do."
Sophie moved around the kitchen with practiced efficiency, checking on something in the oven, adjusting the temperature. Michael could tell she was focused, making sure everything was perfect. Every few minutes, she'd glance at him with a small, reassuring smile.
"She's been planning this meal since we knew you were coming home," Liam said in a low voice, leaning forward. "Spent hours making sure she had all the right ingredients."
"I wanted it to be special," Sophie said from the kitchen, having clearly heard him. "It's not every day someone comes home from the hospital."
The house felt lived-in, comfortable. Michael noticed little details—a coffee mug left on the side table, yesterday's newspaper folded on the couch, a pair of reading glasses on the mantle next to the photos. This was a home where people actually belonged to each other.
Sophie finally sat down beside him, her movements graceful and deliberate. "Mom should be back any minute. She went to get your medication right after Liam called to say you were being discharged."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, just the three of them around the table. Michael felt something he couldn't quite name—peace, maybe. Or belonging. It was so different from Martha's house, where silence meant someone was angry or disappointed.
The sound of a key in the lock made them all turn toward the front door.
"That's her," Sophie said, standing up smoothly.
The front door opened, and a woman stepped inside with a small pharmacy bag. She had the same dark hair as Sophie, streaked with gray, and kind eyes. The moment she saw Michael, her face lit up.
The pharmacy bag slipped from her fingers. "My son," she breathed, crossing the room to wrap him in her arms.
This hug was different from Sophie's—deeper, with the kind of love that came from years of caring for someone. Michael felt something break open in his chest.
'This is what having a mother who actually shows love feels like,' he realized. 'Mom loved me, I know she did, but after everything that happened... she stopped showing it. Stopped touching me, stopped saying it. This is what I've been missing.'
When she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes. "Are you hungry, sweetheart?"
They gathered around the table as Sophie lifted the cloth, revealing pasta with cream sauce and herbs. The presentation was elegant, clearly made with care and skill.
"This looks incredible," Michael said, genuinely impressed.
Sophie served him first, her movements precise. "I remembered you always liked this combination. I hope it tastes familiar, even if you don't remember it yet."
Michael took a generous portion and lifted a forkful to his mouth. The taste was rich and comforting, with layers of flavor that spoke to real culinary knowledge.
"It's delicious," he said with a genuine smile. "Really, really good."
As they all began eating, their mother turned to Liam with a concerned expression. "Liam, dear, the hospital bill—I know it must have been expensive."
Liam shifted slightly in his seat. "One of my friends at the academy helped me cover it. Don't worry about it, Mrs. Andrews. He had the resources to help, and Michael's worth it."
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "You're such a good person. We'll pay you back as soon as we can manage it."
"There's no need," Liam said quickly. "Really. I'm just glad he's okay."
Sophie looked between them thoughtfully. "We're lucky to have friends who care so much."
Their mother smiled. "We really are."
The conversation flowed easily as they ate, and Michael felt himself relaxing. Then Liam reached across the table for more pasta and somehow managed to get cream sauce all over his sleeve.
"Perfect," he muttered, looking down at the white stain. "You know what? I'm going to tell people this is my new fashion statement. 'Pasta chic' - it's very avant-garde."
Sophie handed him a napkin with a patient sigh. "Or you could just learn to eat like a civilized human being."
"Civilized is overrated," Liam said, dabbing at his sleeve. "Besides, this gives the outfit character."
"It gives the outfit a dry cleaning bill," Sophie replied matter-of-factly.
Liam grinned and held up his stained sleeve like he was modeling it. "What do you think, Michael? Very sophisticated, right? I'm basically a walking advertisement for Sophie's cooking."
"You're basically a walking disaster," Sophie corrected, but there was fondness in her voice despite her words.
"Hey, at least I'm consistent," Liam shot back. "Remember last week when you made that chocolate cake and I somehow got frosting in my hair? Still don't know how I managed that one."
"Because you stick your face too close to everything," Sophie said, rolling her eyes. "You eat like you're afraid the food is going to run away."
Michael watched this exchange with growing amusement. The way Liam got increasingly theatrical while Sophie remained perfectly composed, handling the situation with calm efficiency, struck him as absurdly funny. He tried to hold back, but a laugh escaped him—the first genuine laugh he'd had in longer than he could remember.
Both Sophie and Liam turned to look at him, and seeing his grin, they started laughing too.
"See?" Liam said triumphantly. "My disasters bring joy to people."
"Your disasters bring work to people," Sophie corrected, but she was smiling now.
As the laughter died down and they returned to their meal, Michael looked around the table at these people who had welcomed him so completely. Their mother was beaming, clearly delighted to see him laughing. Sophie had that same warm smile she'd given him all afternoon. Liam was still grinning, pleased with himself for causing the moment.
'They say this is home,' Michael thought, watching their easy interaction. 'But what if I'm not the person they think I am?'
The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting everything in warm golden light, and despite the uncertainty gnawing at him, Michael Andrews allowed himself to hope that his second chance at life might actually be worth living.