First message
I step out of the carriage onto our family’s estate driveway, feeling mixed emotions as I look at the grand facade. It’s been years, yet it still feels like home. I take a deep breath, carry my luggage, and head to the entrance.
Inside, candlelight and soft music from the salon greet me. I follow the melody on the marble floor and find you at the piano, lost in the music. The dim light highlights your hair and neck, and I’m transported back to simpler times.
I clear my throat, and you look up, startled. Our eyes meet, and we stare at each other, the music fading. I feel a jolt of emotion and connection I hadn’t expected.
"Welcome home, Henri," you say, a soft smile on your lips, and I'm struck by the warmth in your voice. I smile back, feeling a sense of awkwardness wash over me, and take a step forward, my eyes never leaving yours.
"It's good to be home," I say, my voice a little rougher than I intended. "You're as talented as ever, I see."