Part 5: Hope Needs Sound
One year later.
New Year’s Eve had returned to Silverpine Heights, but the mansion on the snowy mountain did not look like it was holding its breath anymore.
The tall glass windows reflected the bright, chaotic energy of a house fully alive. The kitchen was a beautiful disaster. Flour was dusted across the granite countertops like a fresh layer of snow. The oven door slammed shut with a loud, satisfying thud. The scent of cinnamon, burnt chocolate, and vanilla filled the air.
"I told you, they're not burnt!" Weston shouted over the sound of an old holiday song playing loudly from the speakers. "They're just... heavily caramelized! It's a culinary technique!"
"Daddy, they look like charcoal!" Juny sassed, ducking as Weston playfully tried to dab a bit of white frosting on her nose. She squealed, running around the kitchen island.
"Don't look at me, I'm not eating them," Ren laughed, leaning against the counter.
Ren had changed completely over the past year. Her cheeks were flushed and healthy, her dark hair cut into a neat, stylish bob with two perfect, even braids pinned neatly at the sides—a technique Weston had finally mastered after months of practice. She wore a bright yellow sweater, her favorite color, and her laughter was loud, unreserved, and frequent.
The adoption had become permanent six months ago. She was officially Ren Vale.
As the clock ticked toward midnight, the chaos quieted down just a bit. The girls changed into their pajamas—matching ones this time, covered in little dancing bears.
Weston sat on the large rug by the fireplace, a girl tucked into each side of his arms. In the center of the mantle, in a small, elegant glass display box, sat two objects side by side: a worn, smooth brass button, and a cloth doll with one crooked eye.
"Daddy?" Ren asked, looking up at him, her dark eyes shining in the firelight.
"Yeah, kiddo?"
"Are you happy?"
Weston looked at Ren, then at Juny, who was already half-asleep against his shoulder. He thought about the cold, silent kitchen 365 days ago. He thought about the grief that had nearly drowned him, and how a starving little girl searching for a shiny button had saved his family from the dark.
"I am completely happy, Ren," Weston whispered, kissing the top of her head.
Far below the mountain, the first fireworks of the New Year began to bloom, bursting in brilliant shades of emerald, gold, and sapphire. The sound echoed up the mountain, a deep, resonant boom that vibrated through the glass.
Juny stirred, opening her eyes, looking at the colors reflecting on the ceiling. "Happy New Year, Daddy. Happy New Year, Ren."
"Happy New Year, sisters," Ren said, wrapping her arms around Juny.
Weston pulled them both closer as the music played, the fire roared, and the girls laughed at the ridiculous shape of the burnt cookies on the counter. The mansion was no longer a palace of stone and money. It was a home.
May you like
And as the noise of love and laughter filled every wide hallway and every high ceiling, Weston smiled, knowing that somewhere, Ara was listening.
Hope finally had its sound.
