Zendaya’s POV
The house felt the same.
So warm, familiar and a safe place.
The moment I stepped inside, it felt like the weight I had been carrying for weeks slowly began to melt away. The living room still looked just like I remembered, the soft brown couch near the window, the family pictures hanging on the wall, and the faint scent of my mom’s cooking lingering in the air.
Home.
I dropped my bag on the couch and stretched my arms over my head.
“Finally,” I sighed.
My mom walked past me toward the kitchen and turned to look at me.
“Don’t tell me you’re not hungry,” she said immediately.
I laughed.
“Mom, I just got here.”
“And?”
“I ate earlier.”
She waved her hand dismissively.
“That doesn’t count. Proper food is waiting.”
My dad chuckled from the doorway.
“You know arguin
