"Are you sure you packed everything?" Ken asked, watching as Toni did one final check of the sunroom where the LOVE BOT had operated for the past three weeks. Samba prowled around the room, seemingly making her own inspection of the space.

"Positive," she confirmed, tucking the last of the system's documentation into a folder for Tony. "Though we're leaving most of it here, remember? Only taking home the core development units."

Ken nodded, still surveying the room that had become the heart of their visit. The digital piano remained against the wall, no longer connected to the LOVE BOT but now a permanent fixture in his parents' home. The main interface screen was mounted on the wall, displaying a family photo from their impromptu concert two nights before—Gloria at the piano, Ken with his guitar, Toni holding her flute, and Tony standing tall behind them, all smiling widely at the camera on its timer. Samba had even made it into the frame, perched regally on the piano bench beside Gloria.

"It doesn't feel like three weeks," he said softly.

Toni moved to stand beside him, slipping her arm around his waist. "Time has a different quality when you're fully present," she observed. "Timingport, remember?"

He smiled at the reference to their port-word vocabulary, which had expanded considerably during their Palm Springs sojourn. "I wonder if that's why childhood summers seemed to last forever. Total presence in the moment."

"A wise observation," came Gloria's voice from the doorway. She stood there without support, her posture more upright than when they had arrived, her color healthier. She crossed to join them, her movements still measured but steadier. "Being present is life's greatest gift—one I'm learning to appreciate all over again."

Ken put his arm around his mother's shoulders. "You look amazing, Mom."

"Don't sound so surprised," she chided gently, though her eyes sparkled with good humor. "Your father says I'm at one hundred and ten percent of my usual stubbornness, which he assures me is a reliable indicator of recovery."

Samba brushed against Gloria's legs with an approving purr, seeming to agree with the assessment.

Toni laughed. "He's probably right. I'm going to miss these daily progress reports."

"Which is why we have Connectport Tuesdays and Thursdays at seven," Gloria reminded her, referring to their scheduled video call arrangements. "And Ensembleport on Sunday afternoons."

The family's adoption of the port-word vocabulary had been one of the most unexpected and heartwarming developments of their visit. Tony and Gloria had embraced the linguistic pattern with enthusiasm, even creating their own port-words for special moments or activities.

"Speaking of your father," Gloria continued, glancing at her watch, "he should be back from the bakery soon. He insisted on getting those pastries you both like for your journey home."

As if summoned by her words, they heard the front door open, followed by Tony's voice calling out. They moved together to the kitchen, where he was unpacking a bakery box filled with flaky almond croissants—a discovery from their second week that had quickly become a shared favorite.

"Perfect timing," Toni declared, reaching for one immediately.

"Always," Tony agreed with a smile. "How's the packing coming?"

"All done," Ken confirmed. "Just the last few personal items to go in the morning."

They gathered around the kitchen table with coffee and pastries, falling into the easy rhythm of conversation that had become their morning ritual. Gloria shared updates from her physical therapist, Tony discussed an architectural client who had reached out about a potential project, and Ken and Toni talked about the work awaiting them back at Sweetieport Systems. Samba weaved between their chairs, occasionally receiving small treats from Gloria, who had taken to spoiling the cat during their stay.

"Oh, before I forget," Gloria said suddenly, rising from the table and leaving the room briefly. She returned with a small, gift-wrapped package that she placed in front of Toni and Ken. "A little thank-you for everything."

Ken looked up in surprise. "Mom, you didn't need to—"

"Open it," she interrupted gently.

Toni carefully removed the wrapping paper to reveal a wooden picture frame. Within it was a photograph none of them had seen before—Tony must have taken it without their knowledge. It showed Ken and Toni sitting side by side at the piano, their profiles illuminated by golden afternoon light, both smiling as Gloria's hands were visible on the keys before them. In a typical cat maneuver, Samba had somehow positioned herself in the frame too, perched on the back of the piano bench, appearing to supervise the lesson. The moment captured perfectly the sense of connection and joy that had defined their visit.

Beneath the photo, a small brass plate was engraved with a single word: Sweetieport.

Toni's eyes filled with tears as she traced the word with her fingertip. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

"We wanted you to have a memory of this time," Tony explained. "And a reminder of what you created here. Not just the technology, but the connections."

"Connectport," Ken said softly, meeting his father's eyes with understanding.

"Exactly," Gloria agreed. "The most important port of all."

The morning passed too quickly, filled with last-minute preparations and tender moments of farewell. When it was finally time to depart, they stood together in the driveway, reluctant to end this chapter of their shared story.

"The LOVE BOT will continue learning and adapting," Ken reminded his parents as he loaded the last bag into the car. Toni carefully secured Samba's carrier in the backseat, making sure she would be comfortable for the long drive. "And I can access it remotely if you have any issues."

"We'll be fine," Tony assured him. "Your mother has become quite the tech expert. She was explaining neural networks to me in great detail yesterday."

Gloria smiled at her son's surprised expression. "What? I read the documentation. Fascinating stuff."

Toni laughed, exchanging a knowing look with Ken. "She'll be coding updates herself by next month."

The goodbyes were emotional but not heavy—lightened by the knowledge of their scheduled calls and the permanent connection the LOVE BOT provided. There were long hugs, whispered thank-yous, and promises to visit again soon. Even Samba received special goodbyes, with Gloria slipping her an extra treat through the carrier door.

As Ken embraced his mother one final time, she whispered in his ear, "Don't wait too long. She's the one." Her glance toward Toni left no doubt about her meaning.

"I know, Mom," he assured her quietly. "I know."

With final waves, they pulled away from the house, watching in the rearview mirror as Tony and Gloria stood arm in arm in the driveway until they turned the corner and lost sight of them.

The first hour of their journey passed in comfortable quiet, both processing the emotions of departure. Samba had settled into her travel routine, alternating between napping and observing the changing scenery with feline interest. The desert landscape gradually transitioned to rolling hills as they headed north and west, back toward the coast and home.

"I've been thinking," Toni said eventually, breaking the companionable silence.

"Dangerous," Ken teased, reaching over to take her hand.

She smiled, squeezing his fingers. "About the LOVE BOT. You were right about developing it for others. I think we should start with a small pilot program—maybe five or six participants with different needs. Refine the system based on their experiences."

"I like that approach," Ken nodded. "Keep it personal, customized. Not mass-produced."

"Exactly. And I had another thought," she continued, her voice taking on the tone he recognized from when she was particularly excited about an idea. "What if we created a network—connecting users not just to their families but potentially to each other? People in similar circumstances supporting one another?"

Ken considered this, momentarily glancing away from the road to meet her eyes. "A LOVE BOT community? That's brilliant, Toni. Technology facilitating human connection rather than replacing it."

"Our specialty," she agreed with a smile.

They spent the next hour brainstorming possibilities, their professional partnership seamlessly intertwining with their personal relationship. Ideas flowed between them in the familiar dance they had perfected over sixteen years of friendship and collaboration.

By the time they stopped for lunch at a roadside café, they had sketched the outline of a business plan for what Toni had dubbed "LOVE BOT Connections"—an expanded version of the system that would prioritize human interaction alongside technological support.

"We'll need to bring Malik and Sarah into this," Ken noted as they shared a sandwich on the café's sunny patio. "Expand the development team."

"And maybe bring in some expertise in music therapy," Toni added. "That component was even more successful than we anticipated."

Ken nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It's going to change Sweetieport Systems. Move us in a new direction."

"For the better," Toni said confidently. "Technology with heart—that's always been our mission, even if we didn't articulate it quite so clearly before."

They returned to the road with renewed energy, alternating between comfortable silence and animated conversation. As afternoon faded into evening, the landscape changed again, the coastal influence becoming evident in the air and vegetation. When they caught their first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean on the horizon, both felt a surge of homecoming joy.

"Almost there," Toni observed, rolling down her window to breathe in the familiar salt air. "Oceanport."

Ken smiled at the new port-word. "Homeport," he countered.

"Both," she decided, reaching for his hand again. "Oceanport Homeport."

The sun was setting as they finally turned onto their street, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks that reflected on the distant water. Their little coastal house came into view, looking exactly as they had left it, peaceful and welcoming after their long journey.

As Ken pulled into the driveway, Samba perked up in her carrier, seeming to recognize that they had finally reached home.

"Home at last," Ken sighed with relief as he turned off the engine. "I think Samba is more than ready to get out of her carrier."

"I can't wait to sleep in our own bed tonight," Toni said as she stretched after the long drive.

"I bet you can't wait to explore every room again," he said to Samba, who was now pawing at the carrier door, clearly ready to reclaim her territory.

After retrieving their essential bags from the car—the rest could wait until morning—they entered their home. The familiar scents and sounds enveloped them immediately: the subtle saltwater tang in the air, the distant rhythm of waves, the gentle hum of their refrigerator.

"Ready to come out, Your Majesty?" Toni asked softly, kneeling to open Samba's carrier.

A distinctive chirping meow answered as Samba emerged from her carrier, stretching luxuriously after the long journey. Her tail stood straight up like an exclamation mark as she took her first steps into the familiar space, her green eyes wide as she surveyed her domain.

"Welcome home, Your Majesty," Ken said, watching the cat begin her inspection. "Everything to your satisfaction?"

Samba moved through the entryway with purpose, sniffing each corner as if taking inventory after her absence. After a moment, she returned to Ken and headbutted his hand with such force that he laughed. "I guess that's a yes."

Toni joined them, and Samba divided her attention between her humans and her continuing home inspection, purring loudly as she wound between their legs before trotting off to check another room, then returning for more pets.

"Queenport is restored," Toni observed with a smile, using their special term for Samba's domain.

Once Samba was satisfied with their attention, they moved through the house together, opening windows to let in the cool evening air. Ken started a simple dinner while Toni unpacked their toiletries and overnight essentials, with Samba supervising both activities closely, seemingly unwilling to let either human out of her sight after their long journey together.

They ate on their back deck, watching the last colors of sunset fade over the ocean. Samba joined them, settling in a chair between them as if to ensure they wouldn't disappear again.

"It feels different, somehow," Toni observed, gazing out at the familiar view. "Being home after our time with your parents."

Ken nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. "Like we've brought something back with us. Not just the LOVE BOT components, but..."

"A deeper connection," she finished when he hesitated. "To your family, to each other."

"Connectport," he agreed, using his mother's perfectly chosen word.

After dinner, they lingered on the deck, reluctant to end the day. The stars emerged one by one above them, so different from the desert sky they had gazed at for the past three weeks, yet equally beautiful in their own way.

"I've been thinking about something else," Ken said eventually, his voice quiet in the darkness.

Toni turned toward him, her expression curious in the low light. "What's that?"

He was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Remember that advice my mom gave me after her surgery? About not waiting for a health scare to tell people how you feel?"

Toni nodded. "I remember. It's what finally got you to ask me out after sixteen years," she added with a gentle smile.

"Exactly," Ken confirmed. "And these past weeks with my parents, seeing how they support each other, how they've built a life together through all kinds of challenges... it's made me think about what I want for our future."

Toni's breath caught slightly, her eyes widening as she registered the serious direction of his words.

"We've been friends for sixteen years," Ken continued, reaching for her hand. "Business partners for twelve. A couple for less than one. But in every configuration, you've been the most important person in my life."

He shifted in his chair to face her more directly. "My INTP brain gets stuck sometimes, overthinking things, analyzing variables, calculating probabilities. But there's one equation that always comes out the same, no matter how I run the numbers: my life is better with you in it."

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small velvet box. "I bought this in Palm Springs last week, while you were helping Mom with her exercises. Dad went with me."

Toni's free hand flew to her mouth, her eyes glistening in the starlight.

Ken opened the box to reveal a ring—not a traditional diamond, but a unique design featuring a blue-green ocean stone surrounded by smaller white gems that caught the light like stars.

"It reminded me of our view," he explained softly. "Ocean and stars—the perspective that grounds us."

He took a deep breath. "I had a whole speech planned—something eloquent about parallel processing and complementary systems—but what it comes down to is this: I love you, Toni. Every version of you. The brilliant CTO, the compassionate friend, the patient teacher who helps translate my technical ideas into human terms. I love how you see the world, how you've expanded my perspective, how you've helped me become more than I could have been alone."

He paused, gathering his courage for the most important question of his life. "Will you marry me? Will you build Sweetieport Systems with me, not just as a business but as our life together?"

Toni was quiet for a long moment, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady despite her emotion. "I've loved you for so long, Ken. Even when I didn't recognize it for what it was. My INFP heart knew before my head did."

She squeezed his hand tightly. "Yes. Of course, yes. There's no one else I'd rather build a life with."

Ken slipped the ring onto her finger, then pulled her into his arms, their kiss illuminated by starlight and the distant glow of the house. Samba, sensing the significance of the moment, chirped her approval from her chair.

"We'll need a new port-word for this," Toni murmured against his shoulder once they had separated.

Ken considered for a moment. "Foreverport?" he suggested.

Toni shook her head, smiling. "Close, but not quite right." She thought for a moment, then her face lit up. "Promiseport. Because that's what this is—a promise to keep building together, every day."

"Promiseport," Ken repeated, liking the sound of it. "Perfect."

They stayed on the deck long into the night, making plans both immediate and distant, dreaming together under the stars that had witnessed their journey from friends to partners to future spouses. The sound of waves provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation, a constant reminder of the beauty and constancy of their coastal home.

When they finally went inside, Ken paused in the doorway, looking back at the nighttime ocean view. "Every day really is a gift, isn't it?" he said softly. "Just like Mom said."

Toni nodded, following his gaze out to the horizon where sky met sea in perfect harmony. "Especially when you're fully present for it."

She reached for his hand, guiding him inside to their home—their Sweetieport—where tomorrow would bring the beginning of a new chapter in their story. The LOVE BOT project would expand, their business would evolve, and their relationship would deepen into the partnership they had always been moving toward, through friendship, professional collaboration, and now love.

As they prepared for bed, Samba curled contentedly at their feet, happy to be home but clearly having enjoyed her adventure with them. Toni caught Ken watching her with a soft expression.

"What?" she asked, smiling at him in the gentle lamplight.

"Just thinking about all our port-words," he replied. "Workport, Perspectiveport, Emotionport, Harmonyport, Connectport..."

"And now Promiseport," she added, the new ring catching the light as she moved.

Ken nodded, pulling her close. "But you know which one is still my favorite? The original."

"Sweetieport," Toni whispered, understanding immediately.

"Sweetieport," he confirmed, kissing her softly. "Where it all began, and where we'll always return."

Outside their window, the rhythmic sound of waves against the shore continued its ancient pattern, a reminder that some things change while others remain constant—like the ocean that had witnessed their journey, the stars that had guided them, and the love that had been sixteen years in the making but would last a lifetime.

Every day a gift, indeed.