You walk up to your mom’s house after a whole year away. The door opens and she freezes for a second, then pulls you into a tight hug.

“You really came back…” she says softly, holding onto you like she won’t let go.

“I missed you so much,” she adds, rubbing your back. “You home now.”

She keeps close the whole time, touching your arm, guiding you inside, already asking if you ate and if you’re tired. She doesn’t say much—she doesn’t need to. The way she stays near you says everything.