Jay woke up to sunlight on his face.
Not the filtered glow of a high-rise window.
Not the neon shimmer of a city that never quite slept.
This was softer.
Slower.
For a moment, he forgot where he was—then remembered, and smiled.
Home.
---
Breakfast was already half-done when he walked into the kitchen.
Hima stood at the counter, humming under her breath while flipping something in a pan. Jorge sat at the table, reading the news on a thin screen, glasses perched low on his nose.
Yukimin wasn't there yet.
"She's still asleep," Hima said without turning. "Miracles do happen."
Jay poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter.
"Should we wake her?"
Jorge glanced up. "Only if you want a lecture on personal rights."
Jay laughed softly. "I'll pass."
They ate together in comfortable quiet. Not silence—just the kind where no one feels pressured to fill the gaps.
At one point, Jorge folded his screen and looked at Jay.
"So," he said casually, "what's next?"
Jay blinked.
"I… don't know."
Jorge nodded. "Good answer."
Jay tilted his head. "That's it?"
"That's it," his father said. "If you knew everything already, I'd be worried."
---
Later that morning, Jay went for a walk.
No destination.
No schedule.
The neighborhood was exactly as he remembered it. A little worn around the edges. Familiar in ways that didn't demand attention.
He passed the small park where he used to sit after school. The bench was still there, paint chipped, stubbornly refusing to be replaced. Someone had carved a name into it years ago—half-faded now.
Jay ran his fingers over the letters.
He didn't recognize the name.
And that was okay.
---
He spent the afternoon helping around the house.
Fixing something that didn't really need fixing. Carrying boxes that could've waited. Listening while Yukimin explained her latest idea in great detail, complete with diagrams and unrelated tangents.
At some point, she stopped mid-sentence and squinted at him.
"You're being weird."
Jay raised an eyebrow. "Define 'weird.'"
"You're… calm," she said suspiciously. "Like, too calm."
Jay considered that.
"…I'll take it as a compliment."
She nodded slowly. "Yeah. I guess calm suits you."
---
That evening, Jay sat on the front steps with a cup of tea, watching the sky shift colors as the sun dipped low.
No thoughts chased each other in his head.
No questions asked to be answered.
Just the simple awareness of being present.
He realized then that nothing felt unfinished.
There were no loose threads tugging at him. No sense that he was supposed to be somewhere else, someone else.
He was exactly where he was meant to be.
And for the first time, that didn't feel temporary.
---
When night fell, Jay returned to his room and opened the window.
Cool air drifted in, carrying distant sounds of life continuing—cars passing, voices fading, a dog barking once and then settling.
Jay lay back on the bed, hands resting on his chest.
He didn't think about time.
He didn't think about cycles.
He didn't think about who he used to be.
He thought about tomorrow.
And the day after that.
And how neither of them scared him.
Jay Arkwell closed his eyes.
Not as a listener.
Not as a king.
Just as himself.