"I need to talk to you about something," Peter said one evening, his voice sounding unusually tense.

Donald, sitting on the porch, didn't take his eyes off the TV screen.

"What is it? You're making it sound serious."

"I have something important to tell you. I have a fiancée named Vika. We’ve already filed the paperwork, and the wedding is coming up soon," Peter added, his tone slightly uneasy.

Donald's attention snapped away from the TV. His expression froze. "Wait, what? A fiancée? You’ve been hiding this from me?"

Peter sighed. "We’ve been together for six months. I want you to know it’s real. I really care about her."

"Six months?!" Donald blinked in disbelief. "And you’ve kept it a secret? And now, you expect me to welcome her with open arms?"

Peter's face flushed. "Dad, please. It's not about that. I didn’t want to rush anything. We’ve been trying to figure things out."

"But why the secrecy?" Donald asked, his voice tense.

"Because you’ve always judged people based on things like status, money, and family," Peter replied, frustration creeping into his words.

Donald leaned forward. "But she’s from the village, Peter! Does she even know what it’s like here? Does she fit in with our life?"

Peter’s face turned pale. "She’s sincere, Dad. She works hard, and she hasn’t asked for anything. Why does it matter where she comes from?"

Donald fell silent for a moment, trying to process what his son was saying. He had always imagined a certain kind of person for Peter — someone who fit his expectations. But this? This was different. This was Vika. He couldn't help but feel uneasy.

Later that evening, after a quiet dinner, Donald took a deep breath and sat Peter down. "Peter, I think it might be time for me to move into a nursing home. You and your wife have been so kind to take me in, but I don’t want to be a burden to you anymore."

Peter stared at him, stunned. "Dad, what are you talking about? You’re not a burden. We want you here."

"But you’re always so busy, and I feel like I’m imposing," Donald replied, looking down at his hands. "You both have your own lives, and I don’t want to get in the way."

Peter, still shocked, tried to reassure him. "Let’s talk about this later. I’m not ready to let you go yet."

Donald nodded but felt that familiar weight settle in his chest. The idea of moving into a nursing home started to feel like the only option.

The following day, Donald researched nearby nursing homes and found one just minutes away from Peter’s house. When he presented the idea to Peter again, Peter agreed to take him to visit the facility. "We’ll go see it tomorrow," Peter said, his voice soft but resolute.

The next morning, they drove together toward the nursing home Peter had reluctantly agreed to check out. But as they drove, something felt off. Instead of heading directly to the facility, Peter took a few unexpected turns.

"Are we lost?" Donald asked, feeling confused.

"We need to stop by 7Eleven first," Peter replied, his attention focused on the road.

Donald shrugged it off and continued reading the brochure he’d printed about the nursing home. But when Peter parked the car, Donald looked up and saw that they were on the street where his old house once stood — the one that had burned down.

"Wait, are we going to my old place?" Donald asked, his heart racing.

Peter smiled. "I wanted to show you something."

As they got out of the car, Donald stared at the familiar street, now lined with fresh landscaping. To his shock, the house was rebuilt. It was restored, modernized, and looked better than he could have imagined.

"You rebuilt it?" Donald whispered, stunned.

Peter nodded proudly. "I couldn’t just let it go. This house means so much to me. It’s where we raised you, where you and Mom created a home. I wanted to bring it back for you, for us."

Donald’s eyes welled up with tears. "But the cost... I don’t know how to repay you for this."

"You don’t need to," Peter said softly. "This is our family home. It’s always been about more than money. I don’t want you to ever feel like a burden. This is where you belong."

Tears streamed down Donald’s face as he hugged his son tightly. The emotions of the past few months — the worry, the loneliness, the doubts — seemed to melt away in that moment.

"Thank you," Donald whispered.

Peter smiled, wiping his eyes. "This is more than you deserve. And you’ll never be a burden to me, Dad."

They spent the rest of the day at the house, exploring the changes Peter had made, and Donald felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known in a long time.

As they drove home later that evening, Donald realized that sometimes the answers we seek are not found in the places we expect. His son’s love, his actions, spoke louder than anything else ever could.

When they got home, Peter assured him that the nursing home idea was off the table. "You’re staying with me, Dad. This is home."

Donald sat back, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. He didn’t need to go anywhere else. He was already where he was meant to be.