Chapter 164: Chapter 164

The kitchen was alive with chatter and laughter.

Camila was waving a spoon, arguing over who got the last slice of toast.

Artur sat beside her, trying not to laugh while their mother topped off everyone’s juice.

As Billy and his father stepped into the room, the noise quieted just a little — not in fear, but in subtle awareness.

Carlos cleared his throat. "Hope there’s still some coffee left."

Camila grinned. "We saved you a mug. Though someone," she eyed Billy, "nearly drowned it in sugar."

Their mother quickly pulled a chair out beside her. "Sit, Carlos. While it’s still warm."

Carlos did, and Billy took the seat beside Artur again. Under the table, their knees brushed gently, like reassurance passed through touch.

For the first time in a long while, they all sat together — not pretending, not tiptoeing.

Just a family again—stitched together by small things: coffee, sunlight, silence.

The plates had long been cleared, but no one moved to leave the table.

Morning light poured gently through the kitchen window, casting a golden sheen across the wooden surface, softening the quiet that had settled between them.

Camila leaned back in her chair, idly twirling a spoon between her fingers.

Their mother hummed under her breath as she neatly refolded napkins, even though there was no need.

The room felt still, not empty—just full in a softer, quieter way.

Carlos sat at the far end, nursing the last of his coffee. He hadn’t said much during the meal, but he hadn’t needed to. His presence alone had said enough.

Then, his voice, calm and even: "When do you plan to go back?"

Billy blinked, surprised not by the question, but by how gently it landed. "To the village?"

Carlos gave a small nod. "Yeah."

There was no edge in his tone. No push. Just a quiet, honest curiosity that hung in the space between them.

Billy glanced down at his empty cup, then toward Artur, who sat quietly beside him. Their eyes met, brief but steady.

"Well soon," Billy said. "Maybe in a few days."

Carlos leaned back slightly, one hand absently tapping against the side of his mug. "Work to return to?"

Billy let out a small laugh under his breath. "More like a life to return to."

He said it simply, without apology. Artur didn’t look away.

Carlos stared into his cup a moment longer, then set it down slowly. His fingers lingered on the handle before he spoke again—quieter this time.

"Wherever you choose to be... just be."

Billy stilled. The words weren’t dramatic. They weren’t polished. But they hit somewhere deep.

"You don’t owe anyone explanations," his father added. "Not anymore. Not to me. Not to the world."

Billy looked at him, this time holding his gaze. His throat felt tight, but his voice came out clear.

A beat passed before he added gently, "I have an appointment with Dr. Harris tomorrow—for the final checkup. If everything’s fine... then I’ll start getting ready to head back."

Carlos gave a quiet nod, no resistance, no hesitation. "Good."

Something shifted in the air between them. Small. Quiet. But real.

Their mother reached over and gently touched Carlos’s hand, a wordless gesture that said more than anything she might’ve spoken aloud. Her eyes glistened just slightly at the corners.

Camila raised a brow from behind her coffee cup, mouthing progress at Billy with a teasing smirk.

Billy smiled, warmth swelling in his chest. It wasn’t perfect.

But it was honest. And it was finally starting to feel like home.

The late afternoon air was warm, just enough to coax the neighborhood into a lazy stillness.

Later, when the plates had cooled and the coffee had gone cold, Billy found himself walking without direction—Artur quietly falling into step beside him.

A few birds chirped high above, while leaves rustled gently in the breeze that swept across the quiet street.

Billy and Artur walked side by side, not in any particular direction. Just walking. Their steps unhurried, their silence comfortable.

Billy kept his hands in his pockets, occasionally nudging a pebble along the sidewalk. "Thanks for staying," he said softly, not looking over.

Artur gave a small shrug. "You didn’t ask me to leave."

Billy glanced at him then, a slow smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "That’s not the same as asking you to stay."

Artur smiled back, the faintest curve of his mouth. "I stayed anyway."

They reached a small park at the end of the block, mostly empty except for a couple of kids playing in the far corner.

Billy settled onto a bench beneath a large tree, and Artur joined him without a word.

The breeze picked up again, brushing Billy’s hair gently out of place.

"I was nervous this morning," Billy admitted after a while. "I didn’t know how it’d go."

Artur tilted his head slightly. "He’s trying. You both are."

Billy exhaled, his gaze resting on the moving shadows between the tree branches. "It’s weird. For so long I thought... I wouldn’t get this far. Like something would always come up and pull me back."

Billy looked down at his hands, fingers loosely interlocked. "Now... it feels like I’m not running anymore."

Then he turned to Artur, quieter. "And I think that’s because you stayed."

Artur didn’t answer right away. He just reached out, his hand settling over Billy’s—steady, grounding.

"You’re not alone in this," he said. "Not now. Not ever again."

Billy’s throat tightened at that, the words hitting deeper than he expected. He didn’t pull his hand away. Didn’t try to cover it up with a joke or a smile.

The moment stretched between them, soft and real, untouched by noise or the weight of what had been. Just two people sitting under a tree, hearts steadying in sync.

"I’ve got the appointment tomorrow," Billy murmured, almost like reminding himself. "If everything looks good... we’ll pack up, head back."

Artur nodded. "The village will be glad to have you back."

Billy looked at him, eyes warm. "You mean you’ll be glad."

Artur didn’t flinch. "Yeah. I will."

Billy leaned into him slightly, shoulder brushing shoulder. "Then I can’t wait."

They stayed like that, letting the breeze carry their silence. No need for more words.

Everything they needed was already there.

The street had emptied into a hush, broken only by the quiet hum of cicadas in the trees and the occasional bark of a far-off dog.

The sun had dipped low, casting long shadows that stretched across the pavement like memory itself — soft, untouchable, but impossible to ignore.

Billy and Artur walked without a destination, the world around them falling into a calm rhythm that didn’t ask anything from them.

Billy stopped near a weathered bench tucked beneath an old jacaranda tree, its purple blooms scattered like confetti on the ground.

He looked at it for a moment, then sat, his hands clasped loosely between his knees.

Artur joined him quietly, their shoulders brushing as he sat. They didn’t speak right away. And that, somehow, made the silence more meaningful.

Billy finally broke it, voice low. "I didn’t think he’d come."

Artur didn’t ask who. He didn’t need to.

Billy swallowed. "I kept picturing the worst. That he’d walk away again. That he’d say something and I’d... I don’t know, shatter all over again."

His voice stayed even, but the words hung low, thick with all the weight he rarely let show.

Artur listened, not interrupting, not filling the silence with comfort. Just there.

"I’ve spent years trying to be okay with being a disappointment," Billy continued, fingers twitching slightly in his lap. "It’s easier when you expect nothing. When you prepare yourself to always be left behind."

Artur’s jaw flexed, but he stayed quiet.

"But then you came along," Billy said, his voice softer now, like he wasn’t sure he should say it out loud. "And you didn’t leave. You didn’t push. You didn’t expect me to be anything more than I was that day."

He turned to face Artur, really looking at him. "You didn’t try to fix me. You just... stood beside me. Like I mattered. Even when I couldn’t remember my own name."

Artur’s eyes were steady, quietly holding everything Billy was giving him. "You did matter," he said, simply. "You always have."

Billy blinked hard, his throat tightening. "You changed everything for me... and I think I’ve been scared to say it until now."

Artur reached over then, not rushed or dramatic — just honest — and took Billy’s hand. Their fingers laced, warm and firm.

"You don’t have to," Artur murmured. "I know."

Billy looked down at their hands, then back up. His voice shook, but he didn’t pull away. "I don’t want to go back to that village alone. I want to go home with you."

Artur leaned in slightly, their foreheads almost touching. "Then that’s exactly what we’ll do."

Billy exhaled shakily, eyes glistening, and whispered, "I’m scared. Of hoping too much. Of losing it all again."

Artur brushed his thumb gently across the back of Billy’s hand. "Then we take it slow. Step by step. Together."

Billy let out a quiet laugh, broken and real. "You really mean that?"

"I’ve never meant anything more."

They sat like that, the world fading out around them. Nothing loud. Nothing big. Just two people who had found something worth holding onto — and for once, neither of them was letting go.