Chapter 15.
Home was never something I found.
It was something I became.
It was in the way I no longer felt afraid to speak.
In the way silence no longer meant emptiness.
In the people who stayed without needing me to pretend.
In the version of myself that no longer needed permission to exist.
Home is not always a place.
Sometimes it is a feeling.
Sometimes it is people.
Sometimes it is the quiet understanding that you are no longer alone inside your own life.
I used to believe I had lost everything.
But looking back now…
I hadn't lost myself.
I had been on a journey to meet myself again.
And this time,
I didn't walk away.
I stayed.
With the parts of me that hurt.
With the parts of me that healed.
With the parts of me still learning.
Because home isn't perfect.
It isn't always peaceful.
But it is where you no longer have to run.
And for me,
That was enough.