Sunlight slipped through my window at dawn, and the first thing I heard was Mia's feet thudding across the hallway.
"Jax! Wake up! We gotta pick rooms before Mom takes the good one!"
She banged on my door, loud enough to make Lavender jump off the bed. The cat stretched, then curled back up, like she thought Mia's urgency was silly.
I groaned, rolling over. "It's 8 AM. Mom's still making coffee."
But Mia didn't care. She threw the door open, holding her stuffed elephant Mr. Trunk. "Last one to the upstairs loses the room with the balcony!"
Before I could blink, she was gone. I stumbled out of bed, grabbing my hoodie—still smells like the hotel's lavender sheets—and chased her.
Upstairs, the hallway was bright from the skylight. Three doors: one at the end (Mom and Dad's, obviously), one on the left with a balcony door, one on the right with a big window.
Mia was already yanking the left door open. "Mine! Mine! Look—balcony! I can hang my lantern out here!"
She ran onto the balcony, Mr. Trunk in one hand, yelling about "mango tree views." Lavender followed, jumping onto the railing, tail flicking at the breeze.
I checked the right door. Smaller, but the wall by the window was empty—perfect for my manga架. A beat-up wooden desk sat in the corner, its surface scratched, like someone had drawn on it with a pencil.
"This one's mine," I said, setting my manga box on the desk.
Mia poked her head in, grinning. "It's tiny! And no balcony! You're gonna regret it."
I pulled the manga box open, showing her my One Piece volumes. "Regret having space for my comics? Nope. Your balcony's just gonna be full of elephant stickers anyway."
She stuck her tongue out, but she was smiling. "At least I can see the temple from mine. You can only see… grass."
I leaned out my window. Green fields stretched to the mountains, quiet and soft. "Grass is nice. No temple spire staring at me while I read."
Mom called up the stairs, her voice light. "You two picked yet? I need to bring up the sheets!"
"Mia's got the balcony room!" I yelled.
"Jax got the dorky comic room!" Mia yelled back.
Mom laughed. "Good. Now help me carry these—your star blanket's in here, Mia."
I dragged my manga架 into the room—Dad had bought it at the market yesterday, still smelling like fresh wood. I lined it up against the wall, then started stacking my comics: Naruto first, then One Piece, then the old Dragon Ball ones Dad gave me.
Lavender wandered in, jumping onto the desk. She pawed at the desk drawer, meowing soft. "What? You want something in there?" I said, pulling the drawer open.
It stuck a little—rusted rails—and inside, under a crumpled piece of paper, was a tiny wooden bookmark. Carved into it: a lotus, just like the one on the ivory box.
My hand drifted to my pocket, where the box sat cold. I picked up the bookmark, and when it brushed the box through my jeans, the box warmed up—just a little, like holding a cup of lukewarm tea.
Lavender sniffed the bookmark, then looked up at me, meowing.
"Where'd you come from?" I whispered, turning the bookmark over. No name, no date—just the lotus, worn smooth like it'd been touched a lot.
Dad's footsteps thudded down the hallway. He leaned in my door, holding a screwdriver. "Heard the drawer sticking. Need help fixing it?"
I slipped the bookmark into my pocket, next to the ivory box. "Yeah. It's stuck pretty bad."
Dad knelt down, jiggling the drawer. "Previous owner must've never oiled it. Lazy bugger." He pulled a tube of oil from his toolbelt—"Found this in the kitchen closet"—and squirted a little on the rails.
The drawer slid open easy after that. Dad stood up, wiping his hands on his pants. "There. Now you can hide your secret candy stash in there."
I rolled my eyes. "I don't have a candy stash."
"Yet," he said, winking. "Wait till you find the market's mango candy."
Mia appeared in the doorway, carrying a stack of elephant stickers. "Dad! Can you hang my lantern on the balcony? Jax said he'd help but he's being a dork."
"I'm not being a dork—I'm fixing my manga架!" I said.
Dad laughed, grabbing the lantern from Mia. "C'mon, Mia. Let's leave the dork to his comics."
They walked off, Mia giggling. I sat down at the desk, pulling the bookmark and ivory box out. I set the bookmark next to the box—both had lotuses, both felt old.
When I touched them together, the box warmed up again, just for a second. Lavender jumped onto the desk, sniffing both, then curled up next to them.
"Any idea what this means?" I asked her. She just purred, like she knew something I didn't.
I put the bookmark back in the drawer, the box back in my pocket. Later, I'd figure it out. For now, I had comics to stack.
By noon, my room looked like mine. Manga lined the架, my star blanket (Mom had brought it up) folded on the bed, the ivory box tucked in the desk drawer next to the bookmark.
Mia's room was a explosion of color—elephant stickers on every wall, her lantern hanging from the balcony, Mr. Trunk propped on the pillow. She dragged me in to show it off, bouncing on her bed.
"Look! I even have space for my food notebook! And Lavender likes the balcony—she sat there for ten minutes!"
I nodded, smiling. "It's cool. Don't fall off the balcony, though."
She stuck her tongue out. "I won't. You're just jealous."
Mom called us for lunch—sandwiches and mango slices, eaten on the patio. Dad talked about fixing the swing in the yard, Mom about planting more herbs. Mia rambled about the night market, saying we had to go this weekend.
I ate slowly, thinking about the bookmark and the box. Two lotuses. Two old things. Both tied to this house.
After lunch, I went back to my room. I pulled the drawer open, staring at the bookmark. The lotus carving was faint, like it'd been made years ago.
Lavender jumped onto the desk, meowing. I picked up the bookmark, and again—the box in my pocket warmed.
This wasn't a coincidence. The bookmark, the box, the temple spire, the bell—they were all connected. I just didn't know how yet.
Mia banged on the door again. "Jax! Dad's gonna fix the swing—you wanna help? He said we can test it when it's done!"
I closed the drawer, shoving the bookmark back in. "Coming!"
I ran downstairs, Lavender at my heels. Dad was already by the swing, toolbelt on, Mia holding a hammer (badly). The mango tree swayed in the wind, and somewhere far away, a bell rang once.
I smiled, grabbing a wrench from Dad's toolbox. This was settling in—comics, elephant stickers, a creaky swing, secrets in drawers.
Whatever the bookmark and box meant, I had time. For now, I was just glad to be home.
And home, for now, was a creaky villa with a mango tree, a swing, and my family.
That was more than enough.