Jaded Hearts Dream

🩵 Chapter 3 : Home Sweet Home

Dani

I woke to the smell of bacon and cinnamon—and to Jahlani’s voice off-key singing what I could only describe as a mashup of SZA and some obscure anime theme song.

I dragged myself out of bed with a groan, hair wild, eyes half-shut, and feet freezing on the wooden floor. But as soon as I stepped into the hallway, the warm scent of breakfast wrapped around me like a hug.

“Morning, lazy,” Jahlani grinned from the kitchen, already wearing one of Dad’s flannel shirts and a grease-stained apron.

“I’m on break,” I muttered, flopping into a chair at the table.

“That doesn’t stop you from looking like a cryptid,” he said with a straight face. “Bigfoot could never.”

“I hope your future mate hears you say that.”

He barked a laugh, nearly burning the pancakes. “If she’s real, she’ll need a sense of humor anyway.”

Mom set a plate in front of me. “Eat before it gets cold.”

“Thanks, Mama,” I said, biting into what could only be described as divine. “Okay, I don’t know if this is the hunger talking or what, but I might cry.”

Dad chuckled from the doorway. “That’s the taste of generational cooking.”

It felt good being home.

Really good.

We spent the whole morning trading stories, watching old cartoons, and teasing each other over who still hadn’t learned to fold fitted sheets (hint: it’s me). There were pancakes and hash browns, board games and laughter, and a playlist of old-school R&B humming in the background.

It was the kind of day you wish you could bottle forever.

---

Later, Jahlani dragged me into the backyard with two practice staffs and a devilish grin.

“No,” I said, backing up. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” he begged. “You haven’t trained with me in months.”

“That’s because the last time, you knocked the air out of my lungs.”

“Because you didn’t block! That’s not on me.”

“It is absolutely on you.”

But I caved.

I always did.

We took our stances in the clearing behind the garden, where the grass had long since given up against our years of sparring. The sun filtered through the trees in soft golden slants, and the woods echoed with the rhythm of wood meeting wood.

He was fast. Stronger than last year.

But he still flinched when I swept under his guard and caught him off-balance.

I dropped my staff before he hit the dirt and caught him by the arm.

“You alright?”

He huffed, brushing off his shirt. “You fight dirty.”

“I fight smart.”

We both laughed, and for a moment, everything felt normal.

Until it didn’t.

He sat down with a hand to his ribs, eyes distant. His smile faded just a little. Not enough that most people would notice.

But I wasn’t most people.

“You okay?” I asked, lowering beside him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just... tired.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot.”

He didn’t look at me. “Haven’t been sleeping great. Weird dreams.”

My stomach turned slightly. “What kind of dreams?”

He shrugged. “Can’t remember. Just... shadows. Teeth. Something in the trees.”

The air suddenly felt colder.

I glanced toward the forest line. The trees were still again. Watching.

Always watching.

---

That night, after a quiet dinner and a few rounds of cards, I stood on the porch again—barefoot and in my dad’s old hoodie, staring out into the dark.

There was something here.

Something that hadn’t always been.

I could feel it under my skin like static. In the earth. In the pull of the stars above us.

Something was coming.

No, not coming.

Waking.

And somehow, I already knew…

It had been waiting for me.