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When The Second Sunrise Came

Chapter 16 – Small Acts of Returning

The next morning, I stood in the kitchen and stared at the empty counter. The same counter I had once rushed across, packing lunches and wiping spills, orchestrating mornings that used to hum with chaos and love. Now it was just… quiet.

But today, that quiet didn’t ache as much. It waited — patiently — like a blank page waiting to be written on.

I opened the cupboard and pulled out a small pot. Not for anyone else this time. Not because someone would be hungry if I didn’t. I cooked for myself. Slowly. Deliberately.

I chopped tomatoes and onions, humming softly to a song I hadn’t thought of in years. The scent of garlic filled the air, and with it, a memory surfaced — a younger version of me, dancing barefoot on this same floor, laughing as sauce bubbled over. She felt so distant once. But now, she was just within reach.

I plated the meal and sat by the window, the same seat I’d claimed yesterday with a book. I ate slowly, savoring each bite. It was simple — pasta and vegetables — but it felt ceremonial. Like I was offering kindness to someone I’d neglected for too long.

Later, I stepped outside into the garden. The hibiscus plant by the fence was withered, its leaves dry and curling. For months I had passed it without a second glance. Today, I knelt beside it. My fingers brushed away the brittle leaves, loosening the soil, giving it water.

“It’s not too late,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I meant the plant or myself.

When I stood, the air felt different — or maybe I did. There was nothing monumental about what I’d done today. No grand transformation. Just a meal, a book, a plant. Small things. But they stitched together into something larger, something tender.

That night, I wrote:

This is how I return. Not all at once. Not with fireworks. But with tiny acts of care. For the house. For the life around me. For myself.

And as I closed the journal, a quiet thought rose, one I hadn’t dared believe before: maybe I was already on my way back.


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