Home did not ask me what happened. It simply opened its door.
When I stepped out of the airport, the morning air touched my face like a hand that still knew how to be gentle. The sky was pale, not fully awake yet, with a thin line of gold resting over the horizon. For a moment, I stood near the arrival gate with my suitcase beside me and my phone heavy in my bag, listening to the familiar noise of my hometown.

Drivers calling names. Families waving. A child crying because someone would not buy him chocolate.
It was ordinary. That nearly broke me.
After days of everything in my life feeling sharp and unbearable, the world had the audacity to continue normally. People still bought tea. Cars still honked. Mothers still scolded daughters for not eating breakfast. The sun still rose.