WORTH MORE THAN MONEY
Worth More Than Money
Intro
One reckless decision.
One shattered phone.
One argument that should have ended there.
When journalist Emilia Khatib O'Sullivan watched a luxury SUV mount the pavement outside her home and crush the last gift her father ever gave her, she expected an apology.
Instead...
She was offered money.
But some things can never be replaced.
Especially when they carry the voice of someone you've lost.
As tempers flare between Emilia and the arrogant older brother behind the wheel, another man quietly steps forward.
Calm.
Respectful.
Unexpectedly kind.
Neither of them knows it yet, but one broken phone is about to bring two very different worlds together.
And sometimes...
The most valuable things in life are worth far more than money.
Chapter 1
🎙️ Voice Note #17
"Morning, Habibti. Don't forget to eat breakfast before you start decorating. You always think paint fumes count as a meal. They don't. Love you. — Baba."
The old Victorian house had never looked prettier.
Not because it was finished.
Far from it.
Half the hallway still needed painting, there were dust sheets covering the sitting room furniture, and every surface seemed to have a screwdriver, paintbrush or measuring tape lying on it.
To anyone else...
It looked like chaos.
To Emilia...
It looked like home.
She stood back to admire the freshly painted front door.
Exactly the deep sage green her father had chosen from a tiny colour swatch months before.
He'd smiled when he'd held it against the old wood.
"This one," he'd said.
"Trust me, Habibti."
She smiled at the memory.
"You were right, Baba."
The colour was perfect.
A little bell rang from the house next door.
Mrs Harris stepped outside carrying a basket of washing.
"Morning, Em!"
"Morning!"
"Still covered in paint, I see."
Emilia laughed, looking down at the white splatters decorating her old dungarees.
"I think it's permanent now."
"You've got some on your cheek too."
She rubbed her face.
"Worse?"
Mrs Harris laughed.
"Much."
Emilia rolled her eyes dramatically.
"Perfect."
The street had barely changed since she'd been little.
Children still cycled up and down the pavement.
Neighbours still chatted over garden fences.
People still borrowed sugar instead of sending texts.
It was the sort of street where everyone knew everyone.
Where parcels were taken in without asking.
Where children wandered between gardens and everyone knew whose they belonged to.
Her father had loved that.
So did she.
After making herself a cup of tea, Emilia sat on the familiar kerb outside her house.
Exactly where she'd sat every summer growing up.
Her phone rested beside her on the pavement.
The warm sunshine kissed her rosy cheeks, bringing out the faint freckles scattered across her nose.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
This six-month break hadn't gone remotely how she'd imagined.
She'd planned to spend three months decorating the house with Baba before flying back to work.
Instead...
She was finishing it alone.
She looked up as little Noah from three doors down pedalled past on his bicycle.
"Watch this, Em!"
"I'm watching!"
He attempted a wobbly turn.
Immediately regretted it.
The front wheel twisted sideways.
He toppled onto the pavement with a yelp.
"Oh!"
Emilia was on her feet before he'd even started crying.
"You alright, mate?"
She crouched beside him, brushing dust from his little knees.
"Anything broken?"
"My pride."
She laughed.
"That's easy enough to fix."
He giggled.
Behind them...
A black Range Rover slowly turned into the street.
Chapter 2
🎙️ Voice Note #31
"Habibti... remember, people matter more than things. Things can usually be fixed. People are a little more precious. Love you. — Baba."
The Range Rover slowed outside the large Victorian house opposite Emilia's.
A faded "For Sale" board stood outside.
An estate agent waited by the front gate.
Inside the vehicle, Oliver Carter glanced at the property details.
"Loads of potential."
Elias looked across the street.
"It'll be a beautiful family home."
Oliver smiled.
"If we get it."
The estate agent waved.
Oliver steered closer to the kerb.
"You're getting a bit close," Elias said.
"I've got it."
At that exact moment...
A child fell from his bicycle.
Emilia rushed into the road to help him.
Oliver instinctively looked towards the movement.
His steering shifted.
The front wheel climbed the kerb.
CRUNCH.
The sound echoed through the street.
Emilia slowly turned around.
Her smile vanished.
Her phone lay crushed beneath the front tyre.
For a second...
Nobody moved.
Then Oliver climbed out.
He looked at the phone.
Then at Emilia.
"I'm so sorry."
She walked over slowly.
Very slowly.
Her eyes weren't on the phone.
They were on the tyre.
On the pavement.
On the children still playing nearby.
"You mounted the pavement."
Oliver frowned.
"I know."
"No."
"I don't think you do."
She pointed to where she'd been sitting only moments earlier.
"I was right there."
Then she pointed towards Noah.
"And he was here."
Her voice was calm.
Almost too calm.
"You could've hit me."
She looked towards the children.
"Or one of them."
Oliver opened his mouth.
"I'll transfer you two thousand pounds."
The entire street seemed to fall silent.
Emilia stared at him.
Then gave a small, humourless laugh.
"Don't treat me like a peasant by throwing your inheritance at me."
Oliver blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me."
Money wasn't the point.
It had never been the point.
Chapter 3
🎙️ Voice Note #48
"Morning, Sunshine. If you make a mistake today, own it. A sincere apology costs nothing... but it's worth everything. Love, Baba."
Oliver frowned.
"I've apologised."
"No."
"You offered me money."
"That's not the same thing."
His jaw tightened.
"What else do you want me to do?"
Before Emilia could answer...
A calm voice interrupted.
"Oliver."
Just his name.
Nothing more.
Yet Oliver immediately fell silent.
Emilia looked towards the passenger side.
The younger man stepped out.
He looked around her age.
Maybe a year or two older.
No expensive suit.
No flashy watch.
Paint stains marked the knees of his work trousers.
A tape measure hung from his belt.
His hands were rough.
The hands of someone who built things.
Not just talked about them.
He walked over.
"I'm really sorry."
His voice was warm.
Sincere.
He glanced at the shattered phone before looking back at Emilia.
"Is anyone hurt?"
She shook her head.
"No."
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
Only then did he look at the damage.
He crouched beside the broken phone and carefully picked it up, brushing away the loose pieces of glass before placing it gently into Emilia's hands.
"I'm Elias."
She looked at him.
"Emilia."
For the briefest moment...
Their eyes met.
Hazel.
Brown.
Neither looked away.
Neither smiled.
Neither acknowledged the strange feeling that passed between them.
This wasn't the moment for that.
Elias spoke gently.
"We can replace it."
Emilia shook her head immediately.
"No."
"It has to be this one."
Oliver looked confused.
"I don't understand."
She swallowed.
"I've backed up nearly all my photos."
"So if I lose those..."
"I'll cope."
Her fingers traced one of the deep cracks running across the screen.
Quietly, she said,
"My dad bought me this phone..."
Her voice faltered.
She looked down, absent-mindedly rubbing her thumb over the battered case.
"...before he passed away."
Silence settled over the street.
"My WhatsApp chat with him is still on here."
"I've got years of voice notes."
"I know they might still be recoverable..."
"...but this..."
She looked at the phone lying in her hands.
"...was the last gift he ever gave me."
Oliver's expression softened.
For the first time, he truly understood why money wasn't the answer.
Elias looked at the shattered phone with new eyes.
Not as a broken device.
But as a piece of someone's heart.
He met Emilia's gaze.
"I can't promise what can be recovered."
He paused.
"But I promise I'll do everything I can."
For the first time since the tyre had climbed onto the pavement...
Emilia believed someone.
And neither of them realised...
That one broken phone was about to change all of their lives.
Chapter 4
🎙️ Voice Note #5
"Habibti... never judge someone by their first mistake. Judge them by what they do afterwards. That's where you learn who they really are. Love, Baba."
The estate agent awkwardly cleared his throat.
"I... perhaps we should come back another day."
Oliver rubbed the back of his neck.
"No."
He looked at Emilia.
"He's right."
"This isn't the time."
The estate agent quietly nodded before unlocking the front gate opposite.
The three men disappeared inside.
The street slowly returned to normal.
Mrs Harris wandered over.
"Are you alright, love?"
Emilia forced a smile.
"I will be."
Mrs Harris glanced at the smashed phone.
"Oh, sweetheart..."
"It wasn't the phone."
Mrs Harris frowned.
"I know."
"It's what could've happened."
She looked towards the children now laughing again on their bikes.
"I keep thinking..."
"What if I'd still been sitting there?"
Mrs Harris reached over and squeezed her arm.
"But you weren't."
"No."
"I wasn't."
Emilia smiled weakly.
"Alhamdulillah."
That evening, Emilia sat cross-legged on the dusty sitting room floor.
The broken phone lay beside her.
She couldn't bring herself to switch it on.
Instead...
She picked up a scraper and continued removing old wallpaper.
Anything to keep busy.
Halfway down the wall...
Her scraper caught something.
A tiny folded piece of paper.
She frowned.
"No way..."
She carefully unfolded it.
🏠 House Note #4
"Habibti..."
"If you've found this, you've finally decided this wallpaper had to go."
"Good."
"I never liked it anyway."
"Love, Baba." ❤️
She burst out laughing.
"So you hated it too?"
Then...
Without warning...
The laughter dissolved into tears.
Happy.
Sad.
The sort that arrived together.
She pressed the note against her chest.
"I miss you."
The house felt quiet again.
But somehow...
Not quite so empty.
Chapter 5
🎙️ Voice Note #23
"Morning, Habibti. If someone offers to help, don't be too stubborn to accept it. Even I needed help putting that wardrobe upstairs... although don't tell anyone I admitted that. Love, Baba."
Across the road...
Oliver stood in what would become the sitting room of their newest project.
"What do you think?"
Elias looked around slowly.
Original coving.
Fireplace.
Solid oak staircase.
"It needs a lot of love."
Oliver smiled.
"So..."
"...we're buying it?"
Elias nodded.
"If the survey comes back alright."
Oliver glanced through the front window.
Emilia was outside again.
Paintbrush in one hand.
Cup of tea in the other.
"You upset her."
Oliver sighed.
"I know."
"I handled that badly."
"You did."
Oliver looked at his younger brother.
"You don't have to sound so pleased about it."
"I'm not."
"I'm just being honest."
Oliver chuckled.
"You sound like Dad."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Later that afternoon...
A courier arrived outside Emilia's house carrying three enormous boxes.
She frowned.
"I didn't order anything."
The courier looked at the label.
"Emilia Khatib O'Sullivan?"
"Yes."
"Signature, please."
She signed.
The driver left.
She opened the first box.
Brand-new decorating supplies.
Paint rollers.
Brushes.
Dust sheets.
Sandpaper.
Masking tape.
No sender's name.
Only a small card.
For the renovation.
Sorry.
— Oliver
She sighed.
Then smiled slightly.
Still trying to fix things with money.
She appreciated the thought...
But he still didn't quite understand.
Chapter 6
🎙️ Voice Note #11
"Habibti... always make tea before starting a big job. It won't make the job easier... but somehow everything feels more manageable with a cuppa. Love, Baba."
The next morning...
Emilia dragged an old oak sideboard away from the dining room wall.
She planned to sand it back herself.
Unfortunately...
It refused to move.
She pushed harder.
Nothing.
She pulled.
Still nothing.
"Seriously?"
She laughed to herself.
"I know you're old..."
"...but you're being dramatic."
A voice behind her spoke gently.
"Need a hand?"
She turned.
Elias stood by the open front gate.
Hands in his pockets.
Almost hesitant.
"Oh..."
"I didn't realise you'd..."
He smiled apologetically.
"I was just heading over to start work."
He pointed towards the house opposite.
"I saw you wrestling with that sideboard."
She laughed.
"I was losing."
"I noticed."
For the first time...
She laughed in front of him.
It was small.
Natural.
But beautiful.
He walked over.
"Ready?"
Together they lifted the heavy oak cabinet with surprising ease.
Once it was clear of the wall, Emilia smiled.
"Thank you."
"My pleasure."
She bent down to inspect the skirting board behind it.
Then froze.
"What?"
She pointed.
"There..."
Taped neatly to the wall...
Was another folded note.
She slowly peeled it away.
Her hands were already trembling.
🏠 House Note #9
"Habibti..."
"If this old sideboard is finally being moved..."
"...I owe you twenty pounds."
"I told myself I'd do it every single year."
"Turns out I wasn't very convincing." 😂
"Love, Baba."
Emilia laughed so hard she had to lean against the wall.
"Oh, Baba..."
Tears filled her eyes almost instantly.
Elias stood quietly beside her.
He didn't interrupt.
He didn't look away.
He simply waited.
After a few moments, she smiled through her tears.
"He hid these all over the house."
"I've only found two."
Elias smiled softly.
"I think he's making sure he's helping you finish the renovation."
She looked around the room.
"I think..."
"...he still is."
Outside, the sounds of hammers echoed from the house across the road.
For the first time since the accident...
The two houses no longer felt like strangers standing opposite one another.
Instead...
They felt like the beginning of two stories that were slowly becoming one.
Chapter 7
🎙️ Voice Note #36
"Habibti... if something looks impossible, make a cup of tea first. Everything seems a little smaller after tea. Love, Baba."
The following morning, Emilia was halfway up a ladder painting the hallway ceiling when the doorbell rang.
She climbed down, wiping her hands on her paint-covered dungarees.
When she opened the door, Elias stood on the step.
He looked almost embarrassed.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you."
She smiled.
"I think the ceiling would say otherwise."
He glanced upwards.
"I actually came to ask you something."
She folded her arms.
"Go on."
"We're having a skip delivered this afternoon."
"If you've got any rubbish from the renovation, you're welcome to use it."
She blinked.
"Really?"
He nodded.
"It'll only cost us more if it goes back half empty."
For a moment, she simply looked at him.
"No one's offered to make my life easier for a while."
He smiled.
"Then let's start today."
An hour later...
The two of them were carrying old timber across the road together.
Mrs Harris watched from her front garden with a knowing smile.
Her husband wandered over beside her.
"What are you smiling at?"
"Nothing."
"You're lying."
"I've lived on this street forty years."
"And?"
"I know the beginning of a love story when I see one."
Her husband chuckled.
"They've spoken about four sentences."
Mrs Harris smiled.
"Exactly."
Chapter 8
🎙️ Voice Note #9
"Morning, Habibti. Never throw away old wood before checking what's underneath. Sometimes the best things are hidden where nobody thinks to look. Love, Baba."
Rain arrived unexpectedly.
Within minutes both renovation projects had stopped.
Emilia stood in her hallway watching the downpour.
A knock sounded at the door.
She opened it.
Elias stood there holding two mugs.
"I wasn't sure how you take your tea."
She laughed.
"So you guessed?"
"I asked Mrs Harris."
She grinned.
"She's matchmaking already, isn't she?"
He looked confused.
"I... don't think so?"
She burst out laughing.
"You'll learn."
He handed her one mug.
"Builders' tea."
She took a sip.
Perfect.
"You make good tea."
"My dad would be relieved."
She smiled.
"My Baba always said you could tell a lot about someone by the tea they made."
"What did he say about yours?"
She looked into her mug.
"He said it tasted like home."
Neither spoke for a while.
The rain drummed gently against the windows.
Comfortable silence settled between them.
It surprised them both how natural it felt.
Chapter 9
🎙️ Voice Note #52
"Habibti... don't rush old houses. They've been standing longer than both of us. They'll wait another day. Love, Baba."
Three days later...
Emilia stood in the kitchen staring at the ceiling light.
It flickered.
Then went out completely.
She sighed.
"Oh, come on..."
She tried the switch again.
Nothing.
Across the road, Elias noticed the lights through the window.
Five minutes later there was another knock.
"You've lost your electrics?"
She smiled sheepishly.
"How did you know?"
"You've switched that light on six times."
"I was hoping it'd feel guilty."
He laughed.
"Electricity doesn't work like that."
"Worth a try."
She stepped aside.
"I'd appreciate your opinion."
He smiled.
"I'll have a look."
Within minutes he was standing on a small stepladder removing the old light switch.
He frowned.
"Hmm..."
"What?"
"I think..."
"...you should come and see this."
Chapter 10
🎙️ Voice Note #14
"Morning, Sunshine. If you ever find one of my little notes when I'm not around... promise me you'll smile before you cry. Love, Baba."
Emilia climbed the ladder until she was level with Elias.
"What is it?"
He carefully reached into the wall cavity.
"There was something tucked behind the back box."
He unfolded the tiny piece of paper.
His lips curled into a smile.
"I think this belongs to you."
She took it carefully.
Her heart was already beating faster.
🏠 House Note #12
"Habibti..."
"If you're reading this with someone who's helping you fix the electrics..."
"Put the kettle on before you put them back to work."
"Good people are worth looking after."
"Love, Baba." ❤️
For a second...
Neither of them spoke.
Then Emilia laughed.
A proper laugh.
The kind that escaped before she could stop it.
"Oh, Baba..."
She shook her head.
"He actually hid one inside the wall."
She pressed the note gently against her chest.
The laughter slowly gave way to tears.
Not the heavy tears she'd cried after the funeral.
These were softer.
Full of love.
"I swear..."
"...it's like he knew exactly where I'd need him."
Elias climbed down from the ladder and sat quietly on the dusty landing floor.
He didn't interrupt.
He simply waited.
After a minute, Emilia sat beside him.
Still clutching the note.
"He always left little messages."
She smiled through damp eyes.
"He'd put one in my lunchbox."
"One in my suitcase before work trips."
"One inside my passport once."
Elias smiled.
"He sounds like he was an incredible man."
"He really was."
Silence settled between them again.
Not awkward.
Comfortable.
Eventually Emilia looked at the note once more before turning to Elias.
"I suppose..."
"...I'd better put the kettle on."
He smiled.
"I wasn't going to argue with Baba."
She laughed.
"You've never even met him..."
"No."
"But I already know one thing about him."
"What's that?"
"He raised someone very special."
The words hung gently in the air.
Neither of them looked away.
Neither realised that, somewhere between a broken phone... hidden notes... and cups of tea...
The foundations of something far more precious than either of them expected had quietly begun to take shape. ❤️
Chapter 11
🎙️ Voice Note #64
"Habibti... don't ever be embarrassed to ask questions. Curious people keep learning. Stubborn people keep guessing. Love, Baba."
Over the next week, the rhythm of the street slowly settled.
At half past eight every morning, Carter Homes arrived.
White vans.
Ladders.
Timber.
The familiar sound of radios playing quietly while work began.
Emilia found herself smiling every time she heard them.
Not because of the renovation opposite.
Because somewhere amongst the noise...
Was Elias.
"Morning, Em!"
Mrs Harris called across the road.
"Morning!"
"You've got visitors."
Emilia looked up.
Oliver and Elias were walking towards her front gate.
Oliver carried a folder.
Elias carried a box of pastries.
She raised an eyebrow.
"The pastries are my idea," Elias admitted.
Oliver sighed.
"I've been told I still owe you a proper apology."
"You do."
"I know."
He took a breath.
"I handled everything badly."
"I shouldn't have assumed money would solve it."
"It was thoughtless."
Emilia studied him for a moment.
He looked genuinely uncomfortable.
Good.
He should.
"I appreciate you saying that."
"I still don't agree with what you did."
"I wouldn't expect you to."
She smiled gently.
"But thank you."
Oliver visibly relaxed.
Elias quietly placed the pastry box on the garden wall.
"I thought tea might need something to go with it."
Emilia laughed.
"Now that's a proper apology."
Oliver looked at his brother.
"You couldn't have warned me?"
"I did."
"When?"
"'Bring pastries.'"
"You didn't tell me why."
"I thought you'd work it out."
For the first time...
All three of them laughed together.
As they were leaving, Oliver hesitated.
"The phone..."
Emilia nodded.
"I've booked an appointment with a data recovery specialist tomorrow."
Elias glanced towards the broken phone sitting on the hallway table.
"If you don't mind..."
"...I'd like to come with you."
She looked surprised.
"You don't have to."
"I know."
"I'd still like to."
Something about the way he said it...
Made her say yes.
Chapter 12
🎙️ Voice Note #71
"Morning, Habibti. Life has a funny way of putting the right people in front of you when you least expect it. Don't be in such a rush to walk past them. Love, Baba."
The repair shop smelled of solder, warm electronics and fresh coffee.
Rows of laptops lined the counters.
Phones in various stages of repair sat neatly on shelves.
The technician examined Emilia's phone carefully.
He frowned.
"It's taken quite a hit."
She nodded.
"I know."
He looked up.
"The motherboard may have been damaged."
Her heart sank.
"But..."
He continued.
"I won't know until we've opened it."
She swallowed.
"My WhatsApp messages..."
"My dad's voice notes..."
"They're the important part."
The technician nodded kindly.
"We'll do absolutely everything we can."
"But I can't promise anything."
She smiled faintly.
"That's exactly what someone else said."
She glanced sideways.
Elias was quietly looking around the workshop.
Giving her space.
Never interrupting.
Never trying to answer for her.
Outside...
Neither spoke for a minute.
Eventually Emilia broke the silence.
"Thank you."
"What for?"
"Coming."
He smiled.
"I said I would."
"I know."
"But most people wouldn't."
He shrugged.
"My dad always said..."
"'If someone has to carry something heavy...'"
"...'don't make them carry it alone.'"
She smiled.
"I think your dad and my Baba would've got on."
"I think so too."
Chapter 13
🎙️ Voice Note #83
"Habibti... kindness isn't usually loud. Most of the time it's the quiet things nobody notices that matter the most. Love, Baba."
A few days later...
Emilia found herself wandering across the road carrying a plate covered in foil.
She knocked on the open front door.
Oliver appeared first.
"Can I help?"
"I made too much lasagne."
Oliver looked towards the kitchen.
Then back at Emilia.
"I don't think that's ever happened in my life."
She laughed.
"It sounded more believable in my head."
He grinned.
"I'll accept it anyway."
Before she could answer, Elias appeared from upstairs covered in plaster dust.
"You cooked?"
"I did."
Oliver looked between them.
"I'll leave you two to argue over whether lasagne counts as payment."
He disappeared into the next room with a smile.
Emilia followed Elias upstairs.
The house was slowly coming back to life.
Original fireplaces had been carefully restored.
Beautiful wooden floorboards stretched through every room.
Not a single original feature had been ripped out.
She ran her fingers gently along the old banister.
"It's beautiful."
Elias smiled.
"It just needed someone to care."
She looked around.
"You could've replaced all of this."
"It would've been quicker."
"It would've been easier."
"It would've been cheaper."
"So why didn't you?"
He looked thoughtfully at the old staircase.
"Because old things still have value."
"They've got stories."
"Memories."
"They've looked after families for generations."
"I don't think that should be thrown away just because something newer exists."
Emilia felt something catch in her chest.
She smiled softly.
"I know exactly what you mean."
For a brief second...
Neither of them was talking about the house.
And somehow...
They both knew it.
Chapter 14
🎙️ Voice Note #92
"Habibti... if something wobbles, tighten it. If it still wobbles... put the kettle on and think about it. Tea has solved more problems than any toolbox ever has. Love, Baba."
The following Saturday, the whole street smelled of fresh paint and cut timber.
Children played football.
Neighbours chatted over garden fences.
Someone down the road was having a barbecue.
It felt like summer had finally arrived.
Emilia stood in her front garden trying to hang a wooden planter beneath her sitting room window.
She measured.
Measured again.
Drilled.
Stood back.
The planter leaned dramatically to one side.
"Oh, honestly..."
A familiar voice laughed.
"I don't think gravity likes your measurements."
She turned.
Elias stood by the garden gate carrying a toolbox.
"I noticed."
"You noticed me making a mess of it?"
"I noticed you trying."
She folded her arms.
"That's not the same thing."
"It isn't."
He smiled.
"It's much braver."
She rolled her eyes.
"That's a very diplomatic answer."
He chuckled.
"May I?"
She stepped aside.
Within minutes the planter sat perfectly level.
She stared at it.
"Show off."
"I've had practice."
She looked at him.
"Thank you."
He shrugged.
"I was passing."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Were you?"
"...No."
They both laughed.
As Elias packed away his drill, Emilia looked across the road.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why houses?"
He paused.
"My mum died when I was born."
"I'm sorry."
"I don't remember her."
"But Dad always said home became the most important place in the world after that."
He gently closed the toolbox.
"So when we renovate somewhere..."
"...I don't just see bricks."
"I see the place where someone's child will take their first steps."
"Where birthdays will be celebrated."
"Where people will come home after bad days."
"Everyone deserves that."
Emilia smiled.
"You really believe that."
"Every word."
Chapter 15
🎙️ Voice Note #101
"Morning, Habibti. Some of the best conversations happen while your hands are busy. Keep working... the words usually find you. Love, Baba."
The following week...
Emilia decided the garden had waited long enough.
Weeds had claimed most of the flower beds.
The old wooden bench had turned green with moss.
Her father had always promised they'd tackle the garden together.
Instead...
She found herself kneeling amongst the flowers alone.
At least...
She thought she was alone.
"You missed a bit."
She looked up.
Elias was standing on the opposite pavement.
Holding a mug of tea.
He pointed towards a stubborn patch of weeds she'd somehow overlooked.
She laughed.
"I was hoping they wouldn't notice."
"They definitely noticed."
He crossed the road.
"I've got half an hour before the plaster dries."
"I can help."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
He picked up a pair of gardening gloves lying beside her.
"I'd like to."
Half an hour somehow became three.
They weeded flower beds.
Trimmed hedges.
Swept leaves.
At one point Emilia found an old rusty bird feeder buried beneath ivy.
She held it up.
"I forgot this existed."
Elias examined it.
"The chain's rusted through."
"I suppose I'll throw it away."
He shook his head.
"No."
"You can repair that."
She smiled.
"You really don't like throwing things away."
He looked at the little feeder.
"If something still has life left in it..."
"...I think it deserves another chance."
She looked at him for a second longer than she intended.
"So do I."
As the sun began to set, Mrs Harris wandered over carrying a plate.
"I've made Victoria sponge."
Emilia laughed.
"Mrs Harris..."
"You've fed us three times this week."
"I know."
Mrs Harris smiled innocently.
"I seem to keep baking too much."
Elias grinned.
"I'm beginning to think that's deliberate."
Mrs Harris winked.
"I've absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
Chapter 16
🎙️ Voice Note #118
"Habibti... if you're ever lucky enough to find good neighbours, look after them. They become family before you even realise it. Love, Baba."
The following Monday morning, Emilia was sanding the old dining table when her mobile rang.
Unknown number.
She answered immediately.
"Hello?"
"Good morning."
It was the technician from the data recovery centre.
Her heart immediately raced.
"We've managed to power the phone."
She closed her eyes.
"Oh..."
"But..."
Her stomach tightened.
"The damage is more extensive than we first thought."
"We've recovered some data."
"Photos."
"Documents."
"But the WhatsApp database is corrupted."
The room fell silent.
"So..."
"...the voice notes?"
"We're not giving up."
"There are still a few things we want to try."
"But I wanted to prepare you."
She swallowed hard.
"Thank you."
When the call ended...
She simply stood there.
Staring at the workbench.
Not moving.
A gentle knock sounded at the open front door.
Elias.
He took one look at her face.
"What happened?"
She shook her head.
"They've recovered some things..."
"...but not him."
He didn't need to ask what she meant.
He already knew.
Without saying a word, he walked into the kitchen.
A few moments later, he returned carrying two mugs of tea.
He handed one to Emilia.
Neither of them spoke.
They simply sat together on the front step of her house, watching the children race up and down the street on their bikes.
After several quiet minutes, Emilia whispered,
"I keep thinking..."
"What if I never hear his voice again?"
Elias looked ahead.
Then said gently,
"I don't know if they'll recover them."
She nodded.
"But I do know this..."
He turned to face her.
"Your Baba isn't only in those recordings."
"He's in every room of this house."
"In every note you've found."
"In every story you've told me."
"And in the woman he raised."
Tears welled in Emilia's eyes.
Not because he'd fixed anything.
But because...
For the first time...
Someone understood that grief wasn't about letting go.
It was about learning how to carry love forward.
She looked across at him.
"Thank you."
He smiled softly.
"You don't have to carry this on your own anymore."
For the first time since Baba's passing...
She believed that too. ❤️
Chapter 17
🎙️ Voice Note #126
"Habibti... if something doesn't work the first time, don't give up. Most worthwhile things take patience. Love, Baba."
Two days later, Emilia heard a familiar knock at the front door.
She smiled before opening it.
"You know..."
"...you don't actually have to knock anymore."
Elias laughed.
"I still think it's polite."
"I suppose it is."
He held up a brown paper bag.
"Lunch?"
She looked inside.
Fresh sandwiches.
Crisps.
Two cans of lemonade.
"And before you ask..."
He grinned.
"...Oliver made me buy enough for both of us."
"That doesn't sound like him."
"He said if I came back having only fed myself..."
"...I'd be sleeping in the van."
She laughed.
"He seems different lately."
"He is."
"He felt awful after the accident."
"I know."
"I think he's finally realised why."
They sat on the front step eating lunch while children played cricket in the road.
"So..." Emilia asked.
"What made you become a builder?"
Elias smiled.
"I didn't."
She looked confused.
"I wanted to study architecture."
"What happened?"
"Dad got ill for a while."
"Oliver couldn't run everything on his own."
"So I picked up the tools temporarily."
"And?"
"I never stopped."
"Turns out..."
"...I preferred building homes to drawing them."
She smiled.
"I think the homes are lucky."
For a second...
Neither of them looked away.
Chapter 18
🎙️ Voice Note #138
"Morning, Habibti. If you're having a difficult day... bake something. Even if life doesn't make sense, cake usually helps. Love, Baba."
Saturday morning arrived with sunshine and blue skies.
The whole street seemed to be outside.
Someone had put music on.
Children drew chalk pictures across the pavement.
Mrs Harris was watering her roses.
Oliver walked across carrying a folded table.
"We're having lunch."
Emilia frowned.
"We are?"
"We are now."
Within an hour...
The neighbours had all contributed something.
Sandwiches.
Salads.
Homemade cakes.
Fresh fruit.
It became an impromptu street picnic.
Emilia hadn't laughed this much in months.
At one point she watched Oliver kneeling beside little Noah, repairing the chain on his bicycle.
She smiled.
"You've changed your mind about him."
Mrs Harris appeared beside her.
"I judged him too quickly."
"So did you."
Emilia nodded.
"I did."
Across the road...
Oliver looked up and caught her watching.
He smiled.
A genuine smile.
She smiled back.
Sometimes...
People deserved second chances too.
Later that afternoon, Elias handed Emilia a tiny envelope.
"I found this."
"Where?"
"Behind the old fireplace while we were restoring it."
Her eyes widened.
"But that's your house."
"I know."
"I think it belongs to you."
She carefully unfolded it.
🏠 House Note #18
"Habibti..."
"One day you'll probably have neighbours who become friends."
"If you're lucky..."
"...they might even become family."
"Love, Baba." ❤️
Emilia looked at Elias.
"I think Baba would've liked this street."
"I think he already does."
Chapter 19
🎙️ Voice Note #149
"Habibti... don't worry so much about tomorrow. You'll miss all the lovely things happening today. Love, Baba."
Monday afternoon.
Her phone rang.
The repair specialist.
She almost couldn't answer.
"Hello?"
"Miss Khatib O'Sullivan?"
"Yes."
"I've got some good news."
Her heart stopped.
"We've managed to recover the WhatsApp database."
She covered her mouth.
"...What?"
"Not everything."
"But..."
"...the voice notes are there."
Tears instantly filled her eyes.
"Can..."
"...can I hear one?"
There was a pause.
Then...
A familiar voice.
Warm.
Gentle.
Smiling, even through the speaker.
"Habibti... don't forget your coat. You always say you're not cold... then spend all day complaining you're freezing."
She laughed through her tears.
"Baba..."
The technician smiled.
"I think you should come and collect them."
"I will."
"As soon as I can."
She walked outside almost in a daze.
Elias looked up from sanding a window frame.
One look at her face.
He put the sander down immediately.
"What happened?"
She couldn't speak.
Instead...
She simply nodded.
"They found him."
His shoulders dropped with relief.
He smiled.
"I knew they wouldn't stop trying."
She threw her arms around him without thinking.
The hug lasted only a few seconds.
But neither of them stepped away too quickly.
Chapter 20
🎙️ Voice Note #157
"Habibti... if you're listening to this one, then I must've finally run out of hiding places. 😂
I've had the best life because I got to be your Baba.
Promise me something...
Finish the house.
Fill it with laughter.
Keep the kettle warm.
Open the door to good people.
And don't be afraid to let life surprise you.
Love you more than words can ever say.
Always.
Love, Baba." ❤️
Six weeks later...
The renovation was finished.
The sage green front door gleamed in the afternoon sunshine.
The garden bloomed with colour.
The old house looked exactly as Zaid had always imagined.
Across the road...
The Carter brothers had finished their renovation too.
A young family stood on the doorstep collecting the keys.
Two excited children raced upstairs choosing their bedrooms.
Their parents wiped away tears.
Oliver quietly handed them the keys.
"No rush."
"Take your time."
"Welcome home."
Emilia watched from across the street.
She finally understood.
They weren't just renovating houses.
They were changing lives.
That evening...
She sat on the familiar kerb outside her home.
Exactly where the story had begun.
This time...
There was no broken phone beside her.
Only a cup of tea.
A gentle breeze.
And Elias sitting beside her.
She looked at him.
"You know..."
"If Noah hadn't fallen off his bike..."
He smiled.
"You'd have still been sitting there."
"And Oliver would've missed your phone."
She nodded.
"And none of this would've happened."
He looked across the quiet street.
"It's funny how life works."
"It really is."
She reached into her pocket.
One final folded piece of paper.
The very last note.
🏠 House Note #27
"Habibti..."
"If you've found the last note..."
"...then you've finished what we started together."
"I'm so proud of you."
"Remember..."
"A house becomes a home because of the people inside it."
"So keep making memories."
"Keep laughing."
"Keep living."
"And if someone kind finds their way to your front door one day..."
"...don't forget to invite them in for tea." ☕❤️
"Love always,"
"Baba."
Emilia smiled through happy tears.
She folded the note carefully and slipped it into her pocket.
Then she looked at Elias.
"Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?"
He smiled.
"I'd like that very much."
Together...
They walked through the sage green front door.
Into a house full of memories.
A future full of hope.
And a love story that had never been about fixing what was broken...
But about discovering that the most precious things in life...
Were always worth far more than money. ❤️
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