" You are our guest. Don't say thank you for every little thing. It's our duty to take care of our guest properly." Elian said to Ren.

Then Ren looked up from his tea. Then replied.

"My parents have taught me that when someone helps you or treats you well, you should say thank you to them."

"Your parents have given you good values. It's a good thing." Elian said.

Sera and Mira went to the kitchen to cook food. Then after a long conversation, Mira and Sera served the food.

They both kept talking like this, voices low in the warm air. After that Elian said to Ren to take care a bath. Then Ren took a bath. Steam curled in the small washroom, water pattering softly over stone.

Sera and Mira were still in the kitchen, moving between counter and hearth. Pots shifted, ladles scraped against iron, and the scent of herbs and slow-cooked meat thickened.

He had brought some clothes with him in his dimensional ring. He changed into fresh clothes from his dimensional ring simple but well-kept and when he returned, the smell of food filled the entire house. Then just like that, the food was ready. There was a very good smell all around.

They served the meal. The pine table was laid with heavy bowls and mugs. Steam from the stew rich with meat, carrots, and mountain herbs rose into the air-chasing away the sharp bite of winter, mixing with the faint sweetness of bread cooling nearby. They ate together beneath the low, sloped ceiling, voices weaving between the clink of spoons and the creak of old chairs and the stubborn fox that had been stealing hens.

They spoke of the weather, the village's stubborn mule, and the fox that had stolen hens the week before.

Mira asked what he loved most in his life to do. Ren replied simply "Travel and rest." Her gaze was curious, but not quite warm. Not the gaze of someone who had once stolen his mittens as a joke or dragged him to the river in spring.

The meal stretched on in a comfortable rhythm. Mira teased their father about leaving his snow-soaked boots too close to her knitting basket. Father countered with a story about her failed attempt to chop wood last time, making Mira laugh in mock offense. For a while, Ren found himself smiling with them though each smile was edged with the quiet sting of what they didn't remember.

When the bowls were empty, their mother poured tea and placed a plate of honey biscuits in the center of the table. They were not made with cinnamon, the way she used to prepare them for him. He took one anyway. The crumb was warm, the honey clinging to his fingers.

After they ate, Mira and Sera carried the dishes into the kitchen, water running and crockery knocking faintly together.

"Come on, Ren," Elian said, standing from the table. "Let's go to the backyard."

"In this cold?" Ren asked.

"Yes, why not! You just come with me. It will be fun." Elian said. As if the childhood inside him had awakened. His eyes held a boyish spark.

After everything Elian lore Ren towards the backyard of their house. Outside, the snow crunched under their boots. The garden, tucked behind the house, was still green in places, sheltered by wards. In the middle, a circle of stones surrounded an unlit campfire. Then he said to Ren...

"It's best here in this season," Elian said. "The cold breeze with the stars. It's a different kind of fun. Let's light a campfire."

Then Ren and Elian took out wood from the nearby storehouse and kept it in the campfire. Both of them lit the wood. They stacked wood carefully. Sparks leapt as they lit the fire, its glow pushing back the frost-dark air. The stars shimmered faintly overhead, their light sharper in the mountain sky.

Then they looked at the stars too. After that they both were talking. They spoke of small things weather, neighbors, old stories. The warmth of the flames eased the sting of the air. After the dishes were finished, Sera and Mira joined them, settling into the circle.

They all looked like a family. Like a happy family. They were really a family. But now they did not know anything about Ren. Ren enjoyed this moment without thinking anything. Without worrying about the past and future. He enjoyed this moment even though he was a stranger. They all were sitting in a circle. Around the campfire. All four of them. They were talking. They were enjoying this moment. After spending some time like this, Mira started feeling sleepy. Her eyes grew heavy. She leaned toward her mother. So she said.

"Now we should sleep. Come on mom. I want to sleep with you today."

She was about to say no when she started feeling sleepy. They were tired after working. Ren noticed. He caught Sera's hesitation and spoke before Sera could reply.

"You are right, Mira. it's too late now. And I have to leave tomorrow. By the way thank you very much for all things."

"I told you earlier. You are our guest. It is our duty to do all things for you. We were not did things much. We did according to our capacity." Elian said.

"Your honesty touch my heart. I hope I will be in future like you." Ren said.

"I am just an ordinary person. You will definitely be a great person in future. My blessings with you. God bless you. We can't do anything if he don't want. He is the almighty." Elian said.

Ren agreed.

They stood. Elian stamped snow onto the campfire, hissing steam rising. Sera and Mira wished Ren goodnight and went inside. Sera had already prepared a room for him.

Elian showed him to the guest room a small space beneath the eaves with a low bed, a heavy quilt, and a faint smell of pine.

"Here is your room Ren. Sorry it's a quite small in comparison of City."

" No problem. It's enough for me. It's really good and pretty."

" I'm glad that you don't have any problem. Okay, then we'll meet at breakfast. Good night," his father said,

"Okk, sure. Good night to you too."

After that Elian went towards his room. Then Ren closed the door. And he went and sat on his bed.

The door shut quietly. Ren sat on the bed, listening the faint creak of floorboards, the clink of dishes being put away, the low murmur of voices in the other rooms. Outside the window, snow fell in slow spirals through the lamplight.

They were here. Alive. Safe. But the years they had shared were gone for them, erased like footprints beneath fresh snowfall.

He lay back, pulling the quilt over him, letting the warmth of the house seep into his bones. For a moment, he imagined that morning might bring his memories back. But deep down, he knew that when the sun rose, he would still be a stranger in his own home.

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