The midday sun hung high in the sky as Miura pulled into the curved driveway, the familiar scent of trees filling the Oklahoman air. The house stood atop the hill, its white walls glowing warmly under the sunlight. Scattered trees surrounded the property, their rustling leaves blending with the distant chirps of the local birds. Further down the driveway, about a hundred feet from the main garage, the faint sound of classic rock drifted from the workshop, mingling with the steady rhythm of tools at work.

Sona blinked up at the house, eyes wide with wonder. "It’s big…" she said softly.

Miura gave a small smile, stepping out of the car and stretching. "Yeah... it’s home."

Helping Sona out of the car, Miura took her small hand in her own, guiding her toward the garage. The closer they got, the clearer the music became—a classic from the ‘80s playing from a speaker on a cluttered worktable. The scent of oil and metal hung thick in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of fresh-cut grass from the field beyond the shop.

Miura leaned against the shop door, crossing her arms as she watched the familiar figure bent over a hemi-orange muscle car. The motor, a 6.1-liter V8, had just been reinstalled, fresh loom running cleanly along its wires. Her father was checking over the connections, replacing old plastic inserts to ensure everything was secure.

"Finally got rid of that rod knock?" Miura called out with a smirk.

Her father glanced up, brown eyes lighting up in surprise before settling into a worn but genuine smile. "Well, look who finally decided to visit. Thought ya might be too busy bein’ famous to stop by."

She chuckled, pushing off the frame. "Got a surprise for you, though."

That got his attention. Wiping his hands on a rag, he stepped out of the garage, eyes widening when he saw Sona standing just behind Miura, peeking out with wide, uncertain eyes. A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest as he shook his head.

"Well now, I was curious when that adoption certificate showed up in the mail. Figured I’d just wait and see how long it'd take ya to say something."

He crouched down to Sona’s level, his expression softening. "And what’s yer name, little miss?"

Sona hesitated before whispering, "Sona."

He nodded with a warm smile. "Well, Sona, welcome home."

Miura watched the exchange, a rare warmth settling in her chest. This was home. This was family. And for the first time in a long while, she felt like she had truly brought something good into it.

After a moment, her father stood up, wiping his hands again before jerking a thumb toward the house. "Let’s get inside, get ya both somethin’ to drink. It’s hotter’n hell out here."

Sona clung to Miura’s hand as they followed him toward the house. The cool air of the home was a welcome relief from the afternoon heat. The scent of aged wood and citrus candles filled the kitchen.

"Make yerselves at home," he said, already moving toward the kitchen. "Miura, I got some of that sweet tea you like. Sona, you want somethin’ cold to drink, sweetheart?"

Sona hesitated, looking up at Miura for reassurance. Miura gave her a small nod, and Sona finally whispered, "Yes, please."

He chuckled as he poured iced tea for Miura and grabbed a bottle of apple juice from the fridge for Sona. "She’s polite, I’ll give her that," he said, handing her the drink.

Miura took a seat at the old breakfast table, resting her elbows on it as she finally relaxed. "So, how’s life been? Still spending all your time out there?"

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. "The car’s been sittin’ for a while and it’s startin’ to kill me—and to make sure the cats don't move in. But you, adoptin’ a kid? That’s somethin’ I didn’t see comin’.”

Miura looked down at Sona, who was sipping her juice quietly, her wide red eyes taking in every detail of the house. "Neither did I, if I’m honest," she admitted. "But when I saw her... I knew she needed something better."

Her father watched them for a long moment before nodding. "Well, your mother would be proud."

Miura swallowed, her grip tightening slightly on her glass. That was all she needed to hear.

The afternoon passed in a quiet ease, Sona slowly warming up to the house, peeking curiously into different rooms while Miura caught up with her father. They spent time in the garage, where he let Sona sit in the driver’s seat of one of his ‘special cars,’ much to her delight.

By evening, Sona was curled up on the couch, her stuffed animal tucked beneath her chin. Miura sat beside her, absently running a hand through the girl's red hair as her father sat in his recliner seat of the couch, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Looks like she’s settlin’ in just fine," he mused.

Miura glanced down at Sona and nodded. "Yeah... I think she is."