The next morning.
San Francisco International Airport was absolute chaos—announcements echoing in three languages, the shuffle of a thousand rolling suitcases, and that distinct airport smell of Starbucks mixed with recycled air.
Ethan pushed Diana's designer luggage while she hung onto his arm, still half-asleep and looking like she'd rather be literally anywhere else. She yawned delicately, somehow making even that look elegant.
"Let's go home,"
She tilted her face up to look at him, the corners of her eyes soft despite her exhaustion, a relaxed smile playing on her lips:
"Back to reality, honey."
Ethan met her gaze and flashed that signature smile—part troublemaker, part charmer, all confidence.
He guided the luggage cart with practiced ease while keeping her close, heading toward their gate.
....
The morning flight touched down at their home city's airport right on schedule.
The familiar warmth—not quite as punishing as DC but still that West Coast summer heat—wrapped around them as they exited the terminal.
Ethan grabbed their bags while Diana walked slightly ahead, her Chanel bag swinging from her shoulder.
They caught a rideshare.
Ethan loaded the luggage into the trunk with efficient movements, then slid into the back seat beside Diana.
The AC was blasting—thank god—instantly cutting through the sticky heat.
"First stop, the 7-Eleven on Riverside, near the corner of Oak Street,"
Ethan told the driver, his voice casual and level.
The car pulled away from the airport and merged onto the highway heading back into the city.
About forty-five minutes later.
They hit the familiar streets of their neighborhood, and the driver pulled up to the corner Ethan had specified.
"Ms. Liu, this is me. Text me when you get home safe?"
He leaned over and said it through the open window, his tone perfectly polite—almost formal, like a respectful younger acquaintance.
"Of course. Get some rest,"
Diana responded smoothly, her expression composed and utterly appropriate.
Only Ethan could catch that fleeting warmth in her eyes—the look that was his and his alone—hidden beneath the cool exterior she showed the world.
"Driver, continue please—Riverside Towers, the main entrance,"
She redirected the driver to her condo complex, her voice back to that detached professional tone she used with strangers.
Ethan stood on the sidewalk, watching the car carrying Diana disappear into traffic.
He took a deep breath of home air, adjusted his backpack, and headed toward his house.
...
He pushed open the front door.
Immediately hit with the smell of home cooking and his mom's voice:
"Well, well! The prodigal son returns! Your timing is SUSPICIOUSLY perfect, young man! Go wash your hands—dinner's almost ready!"
His mom Linda poked her head out of the kitchen, apron on, trying to look stern but failing miserably because she was clearly thrilled he was home:
"How was New York? Did you actually visit NYU like you said? Or did you just party the whole time?"
She fully believed her son had gone to New York solo to "scope out the campus" before starting college.
Ethan dropped his luggage by the door and kicked off his shoes:
"Mom, give me some credit! I'm not an idiot—I didn't get lost! But yeah, New York is INSANE. So hot. So crowded. Makes our city look like a sleepy beach town."
He tried to sneak into the kitchen and grab a fresh cookie from the cooling rack.
"HANDS!"
Linda swatted him away with a dish towel:
"Wash them first, barbarian! So tell me everything—did you actually walk around campus? What's it like?"
She was clearly eating up this whole "responsible son checking out his future school" narrative.
Ethan headed to the sink while launching into his prepared story:
"Oh yeah, totally walked the whole Washington Square campus! The library is GORGEOUS—like, old-school academic vibes. Wandered around Greenwich Village, checked out all the coffee shops. Hit up Times Square too, obviously. Total tourist trap but still cool."
He wove together bits and pieces he'd seen online and in movies.
Yes, he'd been to New York. Yes, he'd walked around Manhattan. Had he actually set foot on NYU's campus?
Not even close.
The dinner table was set with his favorite dishes—his mom had gone all out with her famous lasagna, garlic bread, Caesar salad, and roasted vegetables.
Right then, his dad Robert came home from work.
Robert sat down, passed Ethan the bread basket, and asked:
"So? First impressions of New York? Think you'll like living there?"
"Dad, the city is incredible—so much energy, you know? The architecture is amazing. But MAN, it's expensive. And crowded. Like, LA-level crowded but in a smaller space."
Ethan grabbed some salad and continued his "travel report":
"The subway system is wild—runs 24/7 but it's like a maze. Central Park is actually as nice as everyone says. And yeah,"
He got up and pulled some wrapped packages from his luggage:
"Got you guys some legit New York stuff! Proper bagels from this famous place—they vacuum-sealed them so they'd survive the flight. And this artisan coffee blend the hotel concierge recommended."
The bagels he'd actually grabbed at a famous shop near the Hudson River. The coffee was a gift from the hotel manager at checkout.
He laid it on thick:
"Mom, I tried their bagels and honestly? Pretty good. But YOUR breakfast sandwiches are still better. Just saying."
Shameless flattery.
Then turning to his dad:
"And Dad, this coffee is supposed to be some small-batch roaster thing. Single origin, ethically sourced, whole nine yards. Thought you'd appreciate it!"
Linda took the bagel package, examining it with exaggerated skepticism:
"Oh, so NOW you're a food critic? My breakfast isn't as good as New York bagels? Is that what I'm hearing?"
But she was grinning ear to ear.
Robert nodded approvingly at the coffee:
"Good thinking, son. New York does know their coffee. So—you feeling ready for this next chapter?"
Ethan nodded enthusiastically:
"Yeah, definitely. It's exciting, you know?"
His phone buzzed in his pocket—definitely Diana confirming she'd gotten home safely.
He continued playing his role perfectly: the excited high school grad fresh from his "college campus tour," a little hyped up, sharing all the safe details—beautiful campus, great food scene, overwhelming subway system.
"Alright, enough travel stories,"
Linda piled more salad onto his plate:
"You need to start getting organized. Make a list of everything you need for the dorms. And I mean EVERYTHING. Last time you packed for summer camp you forgot underwear."
"MOM! I was like twelve!"
"And yet I don't trust you!"
"I'm extremely responsible now, thank you very much!"
Ethan protested with mock indignation.
The table was filled with the warmth and chaos of the most normal family dinner.
Ethan soaked it all in—this ordinary, perfect happiness. But that phone buzz in his pocket reminded him of everything else: the whirlwind meetings in San Francisco, the $200 million deal, the woman who'd just gone home to her own separate life.
Two worlds. One carefully balanced life.
After dinner, Ethan helped clear the table despite his mom's protests.
Robert picked up the coffee bag from the counter and smiled at Ethan:
"Come on, let's try this fancy New York roast you brought."
Ethan followed his dad to the coffee maker in the living room.
Robert made a whole production of it—grinding the beans fresh, setting up the French press, timing everything precisely. He took coffee seriously.
"Linda! Come try this coffee our world traveler brought back!"
Robert called out to the kitchen.
Linda wiped her hands and came over, settling into her favorite chair:
"Oh wow, we're doing a whole CEREMONY now? This better be good, Ethan."
The hot water went in, and almost immediately the rich aroma filled the room—dark chocolate notes, a hint of caramel, smooth and complex.
"Okay, that DOES smell amazing,"
Linda admitted, leaning closer.
Robert poured carefully, examining the dark brew with genuine appreciation:
"Color's perfect. Clarity's good."
He took a small sip, closed his eyes for a moment, then smiled:
"Smooth. Balanced. Not too acidic. Yeah, this is quality stuff, son. Good choice."
He poured cups for Linda and Ethan.
Linda didn't bother with the whole tasting ritual—she just took a solid gulp:
"Mmm! Okay, this is REALLY good! Way better than that Costco stuff we usually get!"
She gave the most honest review possible.
Ethan sipped his own cup, the warm complexity spreading across his palate.
His phone buzzed again in his pocket. He kept his expression neutral, listening to his parents debate whether this coffee was worth the premium price.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows. The smell of coffee mixed with lingering garlic from dinner.
This was home.
Simple. Real. Uncomplicated.
And for right now, that was exactly where he needed to be.
There are 60 advance chapters ahead in my Patreon. If you are interested can check it out.
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