This was home.
Finally, she could feel the warmth of family and the embrace of simplicity.
This was enough for her.
Eghosa had planned to surprise her mother — to burst through the door and see that startled joy she'd dreamed of during her sleepless nights at Candor. She knew the apartment like the back of her hand; slipping past the alarm system was almost too easy.
But when she opened the door, her mother was already there — sitting quietly, facing her, as if she had known all along.
Eghosa froze.
She had imagined this moment a hundred times, but reality was softer, heavier. She couldn't help it — she cried.
"Mummy!" she gasped, running forward and collapsing into her mother's arms. "I missed you so much."
"Hahaha, iye mi," her mother laughed, voice trembling as she hugged her daughter tighter. "I know, I know. Look at you — why does it feel like you've lost weight?"
"Mummy, you've started again," Eghosa muttered through a watery laugh.
Her mother chuckled and wiped her tears. "Ah, I prepared your favorite meal. Go and take a bath first, then come and tell me everything about the competition."
She wasn't surprised her mother already knew — her brother must have told her everything.
"Hmm… okay, Mummy. By the way… is he around?"
"He's around," her mother whispered.
Eghosa's heart leapt. "He's around?!" she shrieked.
"Shhh!" her mother hushed her. "You'll wake him. He just came in."
She could barely hide her excitement. She ran upstairs, showered, and came back down wearing a soft yellow gown. Her dark skin shimmered under the light, her dreadlocks glowing faintly from the oil she'd used.
"Big bro!" she cried, seeing him at the foot of the stairs.
He barely had time to react before she lunged, knocking him off balance with a laugh.
"Eghosa, are you trying to kill me?" he said, laughing as he caught her arms. "And why do you feel like you've lost weight?"
"Argh, not you too! You sound just like Mummy," she protested.
This was her big brother — Jephthah. To her, he was the greatest man alive. Tall — naturally tall, seven feet even without genetic enhancement — dark, and weary-eyed, but his gaze always carried hope. Every moral ground Eghosa stood upon today was born from him.
She often wondered: what would her brother have done, if he had been in her place?
"Why does it feel like you've gained weight, hmm?" she teased back.
"And Mummy, why is your skin glowing so much today?"
"Ah, see this girl," her mother said, feigning surprise. "You want to use sweet tongue on your mother."
"Ha! I told you," Jephthah said with a grin. "You can't bribe her, Eghosa."
"You people will not kill me with talk," their mother interrupted, half-joking, half-serious. "Let's eat."
"Mummy, what I'm about to do," Eghosa said dramatically as they sat down, "is talk until you're tired."
"Oh-ho, so you want to keep talking, eh?" her mother teased. "Fine, you and your brother can forget I exist."
They laughed.
Eghosa began to recount everything — every trial, every breath of the competition, every moment that made her heart quake. At first, her mother pretended not to listen, nodding absently as she ate. But soon she was fully engaged, asking questions, interrupting with gasps, even scolding at certain parts.
Jephthah mostly watched — quiet, observant, smiling faintly as he listened. After their father's death, the duty of man of the house had fallen on him. He had sacrificed much — his youth, his scholarship, his dreams. But looking at them now — at Eghosa's joy, at their mother's laughter — he couldn't help but think, if this is what my sweat bought, it was worth every drop.
"Big bro, did you even hear what I just said?" Eghosa interrupted his thoughts.
"Jephthah!" their mother called. "Did you hear your sister? I can't believe she actually did that!"
He only smiled, wide and heartfelt.
"Leave your brother to dream, my daughter," her mother said warmly. "Continue your story."
They talked late into the night. Eventually, Jephthah excused himself, and Eghosa helped her mother clear the dishes.
As the house quieted, her mother stretched and yawned. "Eghosa, rest well. In two days, we'll be visiting your uncle's place."
Eghosa froze. Her uncle's place?
Hadn't she just survived the UNE trials? She had thought the tests were over — but she didn't argue. Not tonight.
Later, she knocked on her brother's door.
Knock, knock.
The screen-door slid open automatically, revealing Jephthah hunched over a holo-desk, sketching something intricate.
"Hmm, aren't you asleep yet?" he asked without looking up.
"How can I sleep without saying good night?" she said, smiling. "And besides, don't you ever rest?"
He chuckled. "Not yet. I'm designing a new building — a commission for a noble."
Her eyes sparkled. "Wow, you're using marble and plasma alloys. And those bioluminescent insects — are they forming a crown?"
He looked at her with a proud grin. "You've been paying attention."
In this age, buildings could be made in minutes — machines could raise a palace faster than a sunrise. But nobles always wanted something different, something that carried a piece of soul. That was where Jephthah's gift shone — an artistic engineer, blending architecture with emotion.
"When this project's done," he said, "I can finally move us to the Imperial City. Maybe get a villa."
At the word villa, Eghosa shivered — memories flickering like ghosts.
"If you ask me," she said softly, "we don't need a villa."
He smiled gently. "You've matured. You would've jumped at that idea before. But remember this — no matter where you go, as long as you never forget where you came from… you'll never lose yourself."
Eghosa looked at him deeply, then nodded. "I won't."
She turned and left, whispering again under her breath, "I won't."
But even as she said it, a part of her wondered —
Who would she have to become to keep that promise?
The laughter had faded.
The lights were low.
And for the first time since returning home, Eghosa realized peace could feel heavy too.