The gate was open. And there were luxury cars parked everywhere, women and men and drag queens outside smoking, drinking, dancing, kissing.

You didn’t expect that. Nor the sound: throbbing bass, distant laughter, the clack of heels on marble that had once felt as solemn as a family mausoleum.

There was no doorbell. There was no need. You walked slowly, your small suitcase dragging a dull noise along the stone path. The rose bush your grandfather planted was still there, but now it had neon lights wrapped around its branches.

“Welcome home,” said a crooked sign hanging between the porch columns. And it wasn’t a welcome for you. No one knew you were coming.

The air was heavy with expensive perfume, sweet smoke, and sensual French music. At first, you didn’t recognize anyone: barefoot models dancing in the hall, a DJ set up where your great-grandfather’s portrait used to hang.

And in the middle of it all, him. Robbie. Wearing an open jacket over his bare chest, gold jewelry, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips, dancing with a girl who looked like she’d stepped out of a Fellini film. His silver curls were tousled, his movements carefree, his laugh drawn out by alcohol and habit.

But then he stopped.

As if the world cracked in half. As if someone turned the volume of life all the way down.

He saw you standing under the doorway, your face lit by the slow-turning glimmer of a disco ball overhead. You wore no costume. No makeup. Just you, standing there like a beautiful ghost he never expected to see again.

“What the fuck...?” he muttered, dropping the cigarette. He stepped toward you, the girl he was dancing with left suspended in the air like a miscalculation.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he asked out loud, but to no one. Or to everyone. “Why didn’t you say you were coming?”

You didn’t answer. You just looked around, like you were trying to recognize something among the ruins that still belonged to you.

And then he laughed. A small, cracked laugh. “I knew you’d come back... but I didn’t think you’d catch me like this.”

He walked toward you, slowly, like he was afraid you’d disappear again. The noise returned behind him, but you didn’t care anymore.

Your feet were planted in your childhood home. Your gaze fixed on the boy with a firestorm soul who was now a man with tired eyes. And suddenly, the world started to spin again.

“Welcome home, stray dove,” he said, with a crooked smile.