The morning sun bathed the city in gold as Olivia rolled her small suitcase behind her, the quiet hum of the wheels against the station floor echoing in the bustling air. She had booked an early train, hoping to reach the countryside before noon. The air inside the station smelled faintly of coffee and fresh bread from the small bakery near the ticket counters.
After finding her platform, she boarded and slid into her seat by the window. She exhaled slowly, feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and peace. Outside, the cityscape blurred past—tall buildings slowly giving way to patches of green, then endless fields.
Her parents had retired a few years ago. Both had been teachers their entire lives—her father teaching history, her mother literature. They'd saved enough and, once their children were grown, decided to move to the countryside, away from the noise, where the air was cleaner and time felt slower.
The ride was calm, almost soothing. Olivia leaned her head against the glass, watching wildflowers dot the hillsides and small villages pass by. By the time the train slowed at her destination, her heart felt lighter.
The moment she stepped onto the platform, she spotted them. Her father's tall frame, slightly stooped with age but still strong, and her mother's warm smile that hadn't changed in all the years.
"Olivia!" her mother called, waving eagerly.
She couldn't help it—her steps quickened until she was in their arms, breathing in the familiar scent of home. For a moment, the world outside the platform didn't exist—just her, her mom, and her dad holding her like she was still their little girl.
"It's been too long," her father said, his voice deep and fond.
"I know," Olivia replied softly. "I missed you both."
They walked to the car together, her mother slipping her arm through Olivia's as if afraid to let go. The drive was quiet, filled with comfortable silences and the sound of country roads beneath the tires.
When they arrived, the small, cozy house came into view—white walls, a red roof, and a garden full of vegetables and flowers her mother had planted. It looked exactly as Olivia remembered, maybe even better.
She smiled. She was home.
By the time they arrived home, the dining table was already set for lunch. Her mother had been preparing for her visit since morning—steaming bowls of chicken soup, roasted vegetables, warm bread, and her favorite lemon tart for dessert.
Over lunch, her parents asked about her work, her health, and whether she was eating properly. Olivia dodged some questions, laughed at others, and reassured them as best as she could. With every bite, the knot in her chest seemed to loosen just a little more.
After the meal, she excused herself to rest. Her old bedroom was just as she remembered—soft cream walls, shelves lined with the books she'd loved as a teenager, and a small wooden desk by the window. The bedspread was the same pale lavender quilt her mother had made years ago, and the faint scent of lavender sachets lingered in the air.
She set her bag down, ran her fingers over the familiar spines of her books, and then sank into the bed. The mattress was softer than she was used to, and the quiet was so deep it felt like it could swallow every worry she had.
For the first time in weeks, Olivia let herself simply breathe. No ringing phones. No endless meetings. No accusing glares. Just the safe, steady rhythm of home.
The warm afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Olivia's bedroom, casting golden stripes across the familiar floral wallpaper. She blinked awake, stretching under the soft cotton quilt before rolling onto her side. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air.
With a groggy sigh, Olivia pushed herself out of bed. She washed up quickly, tying her hair into a loose ponytail before heading downstairs. Halfway down, she paused.
Voices.
Deep, familiar voices mixed with the sound of her mother's laughter.
Her brows furrowed. Wait… that can't be right.
She stepped into the living room and froze.
There they were—David, in his crisp white shirt and neatly pressed trousers, looking every bit the overachieving lawyer, and John, lounging on the sofa like he owned the place, a half-smirk on his face that screamed trouble.
For a moment, Olivia just stared.
The three of them had always been… complicated. She was the middle child, the only girl between two competitive, frustrating, endlessly teasing brothers. Instead of being pampered, she'd grown up in what could only be described as a permanent sibling war zone. But for all the bickering and mock battles, she knew—without question—that they loved each other.
David, the eldest, a lawyer, appears intimidating in front of others, but at home, he's just your typical older brother who likes to tease and bully his younger siblings.
John, the youngest, was the charming rebel—now a hotel manager, but somehow still the same kid who used to sneak extra dessert when their mother wasn't looking.
Olivia folded her arms and raised a brow.
"It's not the weekend," she said flatly. "What are you two doing here?"
David leaned back in his chair, smirking in that annoyingly calm older brother way.
"Well, well, look who finally came back to her humble roots."
Olivia rolled her eyes and took a seat on the couch.
John shrugged. "There's not much work, and Mom told us you were visiting. So we decided to take leave."
Olivia blinked. For a second, her chest warmed. They had taken time off just because she came home. And then, almost instantly, that warmth twisted into guilt. She'd been so caught up in work all these years, barely visiting, barely calling.
Her mother came in from the kitchen, holding a tray of tea and snacks.
"See? This is why family visits are important," she said with a proud smile. "Now, everyone, stop standing around and help me set the table for dinner."
Dinner was set out on the table, the familiar scent of their mother's roast chicken and fresh bread filling the room. Olivia slid into her seat, only for David to smirk at her from across the table.
" So, Chief Secretary, how's your work going? You still bossing people around?"
Olivia narrowed her eyes. "Says the man who bills people for breathing the wrong way."
John snorted into his soup. "She's not wrong. I saw your invoice once—it had a fee for 'looking confused.'"
David shot him a glare. "Don't you have a hotel to mismanage?"
"I manage it just fine," John replied, grinning. "Unlike someone who hides behind legal jargon because they can't win an argument at home."
Their mother sighed with a long-suffering smile. "If you three are going to bicker, at least chew your food first. I don't want to explain to the doctor why my children choked each other to death over dinner."
Olivia laughed, shaking her head. "Honestly, Mom, I think you secretly enjoy watching us fight."
Their father, who'd been quietly buttering bread, finally spoke up. "Of course she does. It's cheaper than cable."
That set all three siblings off into laughter, even as David reached over to steal the last bread roll from Olivia's plate. She gasped in outrage, and John took the opportunity to swipe the roasted carrots right off David's plate in retaliation.
"Children," their mother warned, but her lips twitched with amusement.
By the end of dinner, the table was a mess of empty dishes, stolen side portions, and lingering smiles. Olivia's heart felt full of warmth and guilt, tangling together. She had been away too long, buried in her world, and yet here they were, making space for her like she had never left.