EAMON
Home stops feeling like home long before people finally admit it aloud.
Sometimes, it happens slowly.
In pieces.
A room becoming unfamiliar. Silence replacing laughter. Conversations turning careful. Doors slamming harder than they used to.
And sometimes— It happens the moment your own mother looks at you like she no longer recognizes the person standing in front of her.
The gates slide open anyway.
I drive through them slowly, my grip tightening slightly against the steering wheel as the familiar estate comes into view ahead.
Nothing changed.
Same towering silver mansion. Same gardens. Same fountain near the eastern path Uncle Klaus accidentally drove into after losing an argument to Mom fifteen years ago.
Everything still looks exactly the same.
So why does stepping back
