I am in a very happy mood right now. Just came back from Tokyo Garden and had a Sushi dinner that was delicious! And the steak and fried rice…omg…I am craving some more! Anyways, enjoy my dears!

I awoke to gentle hands prodding my forehead as if checking for my temperature. As soon as my brain realized I was waking up, there was that pounding in my head but the intensity was majorly decreased. When finally the pain subsided, I opened my eyes. The curtains were drawn and for that I was thankful because if there would have been light, the damn pain would have started again. It was probably some bad migraine shit that caused the headache.

"How are you feeling, dear?" I had thought the person that had his hands on me had been Callan, which is why I hadn't turned to look at him, but I realized it was a woman.

I blinked. And blinked. Had Callan somehow magically turned into a woman while I was passed out for a couple of hours? days? years? because the woman looked like Callan would if he were a woman.

"Callan!?"

The woman laughed. "No, dear. I am Adelina Cohen, Callan's mother. But I'll call Callan for you. I am sure you've been itching to talk to him." She stood up and I saw she was pregnant. I didn't really want to face Callan right now, or anyone for that matter. But Callan's mother—there was something that felt comforting about her. It was probably how motherly she was. It made me homesick. I missed Mom . . .

Speaking around a lump in my throat, I pointed to her belly. "Wow . . . when are you due?" There was always something about expectant mothers that fascinated me. It was just the simple fact that they were carrying a life in their womb—it was hard to describe.

"I'm shocked," she said, staring at me with amusement.

"How so?"

She came over and sat on the side of my bed. "Well, most people would be shocked that I was expecting since I am so old and all."

I studied her. She could have been no older than thirty-something. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-four."

"I am sorry to disappoint you. But that is not old at all. There are woman that are like fifty and are barely having their first child."

"After this one, I am trying for another." Was she serious? "Shocking isn't it? Callan's dad and I struggled with infertility for our marriage life; Callan was a miracle." She put her hands on her belly. "This one was a surprise."

She slid off the bed again. I could sense she was really leaving this time. And that meant I had to face Callan now. Adelina probably sensed my distress because she reached over and held my hand. "It's okay, Maya, darling. Callan was worried sick over you, I wish you could have seen him; he was going crazy because you weren't getting better. The least you could do is talk to my son."

I didn't say anything as she walked out the door. Oh crap. Callan time now.

He didn't even knock when he entered the room.

Warily, he stared at me.

"You have a lot of explaining to do."

"I know I do," he said smiling. Oh. Don't smile. My hearts in danger of flying away. "But—so do you."

The beating of my heart slowed down.

Since he obviously didn't want to talk first, it was me that was going to speak. "What do you want to know?"

He reached into this pocket and pulled out something charred and round. "Where did you get something like this? These are rare masterpieces that only few Moroi can create." He looked at the ring with wondrous eyes.

"My dad gave it to me."

That go a response out of him. With wide eyes, he came to sit down on the side of the bed with me. "And your dad is Adrian Ivashkov, right? Spirit user?"

"Yes to all the above."

His eyes glazed over as if he were amazed. "I suddenly love you more. What is your say on marrying me?"

I chuckled but stopped laughing when I realized he was serious. That made me serious as well. What did I say about marrying him? Obviously the answer would be no because I was going through a really hard time right and I was still trying to get over my previous love.

"Maya, I am waiting for an answer."

I looked away from him. "I am still trying to get over a relationship that ended so sudden, so soon."

The sad tone he heard when I spoke made him wrap both his arms around me. "It was Tony, right?"

"How do you know all this? Is there something you aren't telling me? Have you been stalking me my whole life!?" I pulled away from him, keep a safe distance between me and him.

"No, nothing like that." He sighed. "Tony attended one of the colleges here. He and I became best friends and then he got assigned to the Ivashkov family. He told me about you, Maya. He said he had never felt the same about anyone else. And that you are the most beautiful woman walking this planet." That was exactly something Tony would say; it made me bawl my eyes out. Callan took my hand when he noticed the tears. "Looking at you now, I can agree to his words."

Finally, my sobs turned to hiccups. "It's not fair he died too young, 'like a story that had just begun
the death tore the pages all away.'" I quoted from a favorite country song of mine.

I had probably stirred some feelings in Callan that had probably been hidden for some time because he too let some tears fall from his eyes. "I had something with someone like you and Tony had."

"And what happened to her?"

"Someone killed her, much the same way Tony got murdered. Someone was wishing me dead, and Dana gave her life for me," he paused to take his hand in mine. "I understand your pain, Maya. And it gets better as life goes on. And I want you to know that I will always be here for you, no matter what."

"Thanks," I said. That was probably the best answer I could summon. It was better than no answer, right?

"You know, I fell in love with you that very first day of I met you. I know it's all of a sudden, but it happened."

"I thought love like that only happened in movies. But when my mother told me about her and dad, I realized that love can happen at any time, when you least expect it, to be exact."

"Everything happens when you least expect it, be it good or bad. Sometimes the bad things happen in order to get good things, other times—the situation is reversed." Our hands somehow intertwined with one another. "Losing Tony and Dana was the bad thing, but it led to a good thing. It led to . . . you and me." He was hesitant to speak the words.

I realized something. Callan cared. He cared about me, and would always be here for me because he understood what I was going through. Tony was gone, now. And despite how hard I tried, he would never be back. I knew that I would never be able to love, like I loved Tony. I could however, love, again. Could I love Callan? Could I trust him enough? Could he be the one, to always hold me and love me, the way I needed to be loved? I looked into his green eyes. I lost myself in them.

I smiled, as did he. "I love you, Maya." He said, sincerely. I believed him, and crushed my lips to his again. Our lips moved in sync with each other. I wanted to stay like this forever. I wanted to be held in his arms forever. I wanted to be his forever.

I pulled away. "I can't—I'm not ready to say those words . . . yet. But I care about you, too, Callan." That seemed to surprise him. A smile slowly crept on to his face. He pulled me tight against his chest, and nuzzled his nose in the crook of my neck. He softly kissed my neck. I moaned, from his soft lips on my skin.

I felt him smile.

And my lips formed the smile that matched his.

Callan drove me home after his mother suggested I eat a healthy meal for the sake my health. The chicken soup she made for me reminded me so much of my mother. I missed her. I missed home. I was homesick. Callan kept on giving me sweet smiles on our way home, and my lips with no consent smiled back. He walked me to my door and gave me a soft, sweet kiss.

When I unlocked the apartment door, I noticed all lights were off. That was weird. Usually Kayla came running out of her bedroom and ran out to hug me. "Kayla! I'm home." Nothing. I walked to her room and it was empty. I looked everywhere and the apartment was all empty. I was alone again. I walked to the kitchen. There was a letter on the counter. It was addressed to me, I mean who else would read it?

I opened it up and Kyle's handwriting was what I saw:

Dear Maya,

Kayla and I were missing home. I miss my Malese. She missed her shinning sun, her California. She wanted to go back home. Maya, I hope the best for you, if you do not decide to come back home. I hope you find that "healing" you came here for. And you know I'll always be waiting for you at home, my sister.

-Kyle

I hugged the letter to me. My family was gone. There was only one thing to do . . .

On my way to the airport, I stopped by Callan's house. I called him beforehand and he was already standing outside his house. He came running to me when he noticed me drive by the curb.

"Maya, is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything is alright."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I'm leaving, Callan. I'm going back to California, back home." He stared at me and I sighed. I took hold of his hand. "Come with me?"

He shook his head, sadly. "I can't, Maya. I already have a life in Spain."

I took a step, nodding. I understand. I wouldn't put up a fight. "Well, I am leaving. Goodbye, Callan." I started walking, half expecting him to follow me.

He never did.

"Goodbye, Maya."

But I was already gone.

Two Days Later . . .

I laughed as the wind freely waved my hair as I cruised down Interstate 5 of California. The convertible Camaro I had left behind was still in the same condition I had left it in. The sun shined down on me as the song "When The Song Goes Down" by Kenny Chesney roared from my radio. This was life.

This was how it was to feel free.

This was home.

I punched in the address to our new home on the GPS so I wouldn't get lost. Right now, the GPS was signaling for me to turn right on a gated community of houses. I had a little trouble with the guard at the entrance. After close examination, he finally realized I was the daughter of Adrian Ivashkov, the owner of the house.

The house wasn't really hard to find because it was so humongous and my dad's Bentley was parked outside.

Our new home was beautiful, much more beautiful than the last. And it was a beach house! Oh God! Good luck kicking me out of the house, mom and dad! Our new home was a Garden House. It had greenery everywhere. It was beautiful. I looked around. I could admire it later. I had to see my mom and my dad! And my brothers!

I walked up the door and knocked on it. I would have walked right in, but the door was locked.

The door opened.

"Mom?"

I smiled, not feeling homesick anymore at all when I saw the woman's face stretch into a smile.

I was home again.

There is always something about home that makes you feel right no matter what, right?

Take care

-Mel