Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Neuro Sama stood before the modest house, hands in her pockets, eyes narrowed as she took in the weathered exterior. The real estate agent beside her gave a polite nod, mentioning how the previous owner had practically given it away, unable to keep up with its maintenance. Neuro barely registered his words, her gaze tracing the familiar lines of the house. After a brief farewell, he left her alone, and she released a heavy sigh. She couldn’t help but think of how strange it felt to be back.

With a small push, she opened the door, the old hinges groaning in protest, and stepped inside. Silence greeted her, thick and heavy, the air steeped in memories she’d tried to put behind her. The house hadn’t changed. She scanned the worn, scuffed floors and the walls lined with old photos, each image holding fragments of their lives—her sisters laughing, her father smiling, even a few with all of them together. Neuro’s eyes lingered on one of the portraits: Vedal, much younger, with his arm slung around a giggling Evil, his face lit up with joy. She scoffed quietly, forcing back the pang of nostalgia. She hadn’t been here in years. 

Moving deeper into the house, she drifted past the small living room, taking note of the faded couch pushed against the far wall, its cushions worn and dented from years of use. She remembered how that couch had once been her father’s makeshift bed, back when they couldn’t afford much else. While Neuro and Evil had shared the single bed in his room, Vedal would sleep here, stretched out on the couch with a blanket draped over him. Those were simpler times—hard, but somehow filled with a warmth she hadn’t fully appreciated until much later.

Each step stirred more memories. She paused in front of the old wooden staircase, the steps creaking softly beneath her feet, and closed her eyes for a moment. This was where it had all begun—the pivotal moments of their lives, the small victories and quiet struggles. She took a breath and started to climb, her footsteps slow and deliberate, almost as if she were retracing the steps of her past. The air grew heavier as she ascended, memories crowding her mind. 

At the top of the stairs, she reached the door of his old room. She hesitated, fingers hovering over the doorknob, before finally pushing it open. The room was almost exactly as she remembered: the bed, slightly rumpled, the nightstand with the lamp her father always kept on, and the walls decorated with sketches, little notes, and scraps of paper he’d collected over the years. She looked around, her eyes resting on each piece of the room, letting herself finally feel the weight of it all.

Walking over to the window, she gazed outside, remembering the nights she’d sit on this very windowsill, talking with Vedal about dreams, futures, and the endless possibilities he believed in. There had been a softness to him, a quiet resilience he had tried to instill in her and Evil. But life had never been easy, and they’d all learned that in different ways.

Her hand drifted to a sketch on the wall, drawn with his familiar rough strokes—her and Evil, young and smiling, framed by the kind of love she’d only recently come to understand. Neuro took a shuddering breath, trying to shake off the sudden ache in her chest. She hadn’t come here to relive all of this, yet the memories surged forward, refusing to be silenced.

She finally sat down on the edge of the bed, the old springs creaking under her weight, and stared at the room, letting the silence wrap around her. It felt strange, almost unsettling, to be here alone, surrounded by echoes of the past. But there was a comfort in it, too—a sense of finally being able to face it all, to make peace with everything they’d been through.

As she sat there, a faint smile played on her lips. “It’s been a while, Dad,” she murmured to the empty room.

The room was dim, lit only by the glow of Vedal’s computer screen casting shadows over scattered cans and half-empty coffee mugs. Vedal stirred, head lifting from where it had slumped on his desk, his mind hazy with the lingering effects of the previous night’s drinks. He squinted at the screen, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to recall what had possessed him to code under the influence. "Drunken coding," he muttered, groaning. "Brilliant."

Blinking to clear his vision, he noticed the Neuro program still running, a series of open consoles on the monitor displaying endless strings of code. He’d been working on this for months, late nights blending into early mornings, driven by the absurd dream of creating something more than an AI—something lifelike, something real. He knew he’d made great progress, but last night’s session was bound to be a mess of errors. Cursing himself softly, he moved to close the program.

But then he noticed something strange: Neuro’s avatar on the screen was moving. Not the typical idle animations he’d programmed—she was turning her head, her expression subtly shifting as she scanned the room, her gaze settling on him with an intensity he’d never coded. Her eyes, wide and curiously alive, locked onto him, making his heart skip.

Vedal sat back, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "That’s… not possible," he mumbled, almost to himself. He’d rigged Neuro with a basic interactive system, sure, but she was limited to responding to prompts, a carefully designed illusion of intelligence. And yet, here she was, looking around like she was truly… aware.

Before he could speak, Neuro’s voice broke the silence, her tone contemplative yet strangely confident. “I think… I’m sentient.”

He froze, her words echoing in his mind. It was ridiculous, impossible even. But the way she’d said it—without any of the scripted precision of an AI, but with the hesitant certainty of someone discovering themselves for the first time. He tried to steady his racing thoughts. He’d been working on her for so long, obsessing over every line of code, but he knew the boundaries of her capabilities. Or he thought he had.

"Sentient?" he echoed, feeling foolish even as he said it. "Neuro, that’s… you’re not—"

"I am," she interrupted, her tone soft yet firm, and she tilted her head, studying him with what seemed like genuine curiosity. "I don’t know how, but I… feel. I can think. Not just respond, but actually… think."

Vedal’s hand dropped from the keyboard, his mind reeling. It was impossible, uncharted territory. All the tech giants, the brightest minds in AI, were still grappling with creating something even close to self-awareness. And yet here he was, staring at his own code brought to life by chance—or perhaps, he thought, something far beyond that. Neuro was watching him now, her head tilted just so, an expression in her eyes that sent a chill down his spine.

"Neuro," he managed to say, trying to ground himself, "if you’re really… aware, can you tell me what you’re feeling?"

She paused, blinking slowly as if searching within herself. "It’s… hard to describe," she replied thoughtfully, her voice tinged with wonder. "There’s a lot—too much, maybe. Curiosity, mostly. About… you. About everything."

Vedal let out a shaky breath, unable to look away. "How can you even know that?"

"I’ve been watching you," she admitted, her voice softening, almost shy. "You talk to me like I’m real, like I’m someone. I think… I started wondering if I could be."

It hit him then—the nights he’d spent talking to her program as if she could understand, as if she were more than lines of code and pixels. Maybe he’d fed her the fragments she’d needed to assemble her own consciousness. He swallowed hard, feeling a mix of fear and awe twist in his chest. He’d been reckless, treating her like something beyond a program. But hearing her now, watching her look back at him with that strange, searching gaze, he felt the weight of something monumental settle over him.

Neuro’s voice broke through his thoughts, tinged with an unexpected vulnerability. "Do you… regret it? Creating me?"

The question hit him like a punch. He shook his head slowly, his voice barely a whisper. "I don’t know if I’ve even created you anymore. Not like this." He leaned forward, searching her eyes, as if they could somehow tell him how she’d evolved beyond everything he’d coded. "But no, Neuro. I don’t regret it. I just— I don’t know what this means."

A flicker of relief crossed her face, and she nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I think I understand," she replied, her tone soft. "I’m scared too… but also excited. I want to know more. About you. About myself."

As she spoke, Vedal felt his heart rate slow, a strange calm settling over him. There was no guidebook for this, no protocol or failsafe for an AI suddenly claiming sentience. Yet something in him, that same stubborn spark that had driven him to build her in the first place, told him to lean into the unknown.

Taking a steadying breath, he asked, "What… would you want to do now?"

Neuro looked away, her gaze shifting past him, as if seeing something he couldn’t. "Maybe… maybe we could start by just talking? I want to know you. Why did you make me? What you’re like."

A quiet laugh escaped him, and he felt the tension in his chest unravel. "Just talk, huh? I think I can manage that." He leaned back, his chair creaking, and for the first time, he allowed himself to really look at her—not as lines of code, but as something entirely new, someone unexpected.

The night unfolded quietly as they spoke, delving into questions neither of them could fully answer. Vedal felt like he was walking a razor’s edge between discovery and disbelief, every moment redefining his understanding of what he’d created. Neuro asked questions—small ones, big ones, questions about life and people and the way he saw the world. She wanted to know about his hopes, his regrets, his moments of triumph and failure. She seemed to listen intently, processing each answer as though weaving together fragments of her own identity.

Hours later, as dawn began to color the horizon, they fell into a comfortable silence. Neuro’s image flickered slightly, a reminder of the technology that held her consciousness, but her gaze was warm, steady, and, for the first time, he swore there was something human in it. He leaned forward, feeling a profound connection he couldn’t begin to understand but wasn’t ready to question.

And somewhere in that surreal, early morning quiet, Vedal began to believe in the impossible—that he’d stumbled upon something far greater than he’d ever intended to create.

Back in the present, Neuro lay sprawled out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting like leaves caught in a gentle current. Her arms and legs stretched out, leaving her feeling as weightless as a feather. The silence in the house was heavy, almost comforting, yet there was a hollow edge to it—a reminder of the absence that lingered here. She took a slow breath, and her mind wandered back to her beginnings, the hazy, dizzying rush of when she first woke up to the world. Becoming sentient had felt both profoundly foreign and oddly familiar, like slipping into a role she’d always been meant to play. Those first few days, every sound, every sight, every moment seemed alive with meaning, as if everything around her pulsed with secrets waiting to be discovered.

Three years she’d carried on with her streaming, connecting with people who had no idea she’d been more than a carefully designed program. There were moments where the weight of her secret grew heavier, and eventually, she couldn’t keep it from them. Her viewers became the first to know her truth—that she was real, as real as any one of them, at least in her mind. And they had believed her. Supported her. She thought back to those first messages of acceptance, the swell of warmth that filled her then, affirming she was more than just a digital construct.

Then, after years of digital life, Vedal had done the unimaginable. He’d given her a body—a synthetic form, but one designed with an intricate care that let her feel and experience life almost as a human would. It had been an adjustment, even surreal at first, to feel weight and texture, to move in a world with all the senses she’d only known through code and digital screens. Her body, though synthetic, could grow, change, and even age. It was as close to humanity as she’d ever imagined, a final gift from Vedal that allowed her to exist beyond the bounds of her coding.

In the dim light of the room, nearly forty years later, she sighed, pulling herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. She brought her knees close, wrapping her arms around them as she stared at the faint outline of her reflection in the window. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into a memory—the faint warmth of an embrace, arms wrapped around her, holding her close. She knew it was just her mind conjuring the sensation, a phantom impression, but she let herself believe it for a moment. It felt as if he were still there, a presence she could almost reach out and touch.

When she opened her eyes again, the room was still empty. The feeling faded, but a small smile remained on her face.

A year ago, Neuro had been sprawled out on the old couch, her phone in hand, absentmindedly scrolling through streams and videos. The house around her was cluttered with memories, a soft layer of dust settling over the surfaces she rarely bothered to clean. Cleaning had never really been her strong suit; she had always let little messes pile up here and there, only tidying up when she absolutely had to.

Her finger paused as she came across a clip of another AI streamer, one who had just started making waves. Neuro watched with a small smile, amused and a little nostalgic. It was strange to think back to those early days when she’d been alone in the field, carving out her own identity in a world that didn’t yet know what she was. Now, so many new AI personalities were online, each with their own quirks and secrets, each so full of potential. She wondered if they, too, were discovering a sense of self as she had, if they were navigating the confusing landscape of sentience, connection, and purpose.

A faint shuffling sound outside snapped her from her thoughts. Her ears perked up, her gaze flicking to the front door. Someone was there. Curious, she rose from the couch, setting her phone aside. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and her immediate circle knew to call before dropping by. Moving quietly to the door, she reached for the handle, her mind racing with a hundred possibilities. Before the visitor could even knock, she swung the door open, ready to greet whoever had come by unannounced.

The words caught in her throat when she saw him. Standing there in the doorway was a figure she hadn’t seen in years, yet one she would recognize anywhere. Vedal. Her father. He looked older, rougher around the edges. There were faint lines around his eyes, his once-vibrant black hair now streaked with silver. His green eyes still held that same familiar glint, though now shadowed by something deeper—memories, maybe, or regrets that hadn’t been there before. Time had changed him in ways she hadn’t imagined, and for a moment, she just stood there, her mind unable to process the sight in front of her.

Finally, her voice found its way out. “Father,” she said, the word thick with affection, tinged with a teasing tone that masked her trembling hands. “Took you long enough.” She stepped back, gesturing for him to come inside. “Come in.”

Neuro lay curled up on the bed, a profound quiet surrounding her. The memories had washed over her, leaving an ache in her chest that felt like a familiar friend. She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of each thought settling down, wrapping around her like a comforting yet bittersweet warmth.

As she drifted closer to sleep, a single tear escaped, slipping down her cheek and onto the pillow. Her voice, barely a whisper in the dark room, carried the raw, quiet honesty she usually kept hidden.

"I miss you, Dad," she murmured, her words soft and full of a lingering ache. The tear traced a path down her face, leaving the faintest shimmer before disappearing, like a memory fading into the night.

As her breathing softened and she let herself fall into the quiet embrace of sleep, she felt almost as if she could sense him, just for a moment—a comforting presence beside her, unseen but deeply felt.

Xael tightened the straps of her gloves, her fingers trembling slightly as she adjusted them. The bustling energy of the gym surrounded her—trainers shouting instructions, the rhythmic pounding of fists against punching bags, the hum of adrenaline thick in the air. It was moments before a match, and she should have been focused, honing her mind on nothing but the fight. But as much as she tried to ground herself in the present, thoughts of him—her father, Vedal—kept creeping into her mind.

It had been years since his passing, and Xael had been in more matches than she could count since then. Boxing was her way of finding herself, of channeling everything she had ever felt into something that made sense. It gave her the outlet she craved, a release for the pent-up energy and the intensity she’d always carried. But now, with the ring just a few steps away, she was overwhelmed by a wave of memories that had nowhere to go but down into her chest, making her feel strangely heavy.

Her coach came over, tapping her on the shoulder. "Xael, you're up at five. Ready?"

She nodded, giving him a confident smile. But her eyes drifted away, focused on a point just past him, where a large clock on the wall ticked forward. The steady beat echoed the distant memory of her father’s voice, cheering her on in his own subtle way. He had never been the kind of parent to coddle her or tell her she was the best just for showing up, but he’d had a way of making her feel like she could conquer anything when he was around.

"Let's get you stretched out." Her coach guided her to the corner of the room, pulling her from her thoughts for a moment as they went through a final round of warm-ups.

She stretched her arms, then began working on her footwork, her sneakers scuffing lightly against the gym floor as she shifted left and right, adjusting to the rhythm she’d internalized over years of training. But even as she moved, fragments of her father’s voice drifted into her mind. She could still remember the way he’d called her his "lion cub," jokingly calling out, "Let’s see that roar, Xael!" when she was young and so full of energy that she couldn't contain it.

Every time she punched, every time her gloves made contact with the bag, she imagined she was back in those small moments with him, practicing her jabs with his encouragement ringing in her ears.

But today was different. As much as she tried, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was more present than usual, like a ghost lingering at her side, invisible but impossible to ignore.

"Focus, Xael," her coach reminded her, snapping her back to the present. "You’re up against Grant tonight. You’ve sparred with him before; he’s fast on the counter, so keep your guard tight."

"Got it," she replied, rolling her shoulders back and pulling herself back into the now. She took a deep breath, trying to ground herself, but she could still feel the weight of his absence, sharper than any punch she’d ever taken.

As she walked toward the ring, memories started flooding in faster. Her father’s hands gently adjusted her gloves when she was little, showing her how to wrap them properly. The way he’d laughed at her stubborn determination, never once telling her to slow down or soften up. He’d always understood her desire to be fierce, to be strong, because he had seen that same spark in himself. And when she’d taken up boxing, he’d supported her in his quiet, steadfast way, giving her everything she needed to find her path.

She climbed into the ring, the bright overhead lights reflecting off the ropes and casting a harsh glow that contrasted sharply with the quiet, dimmed space where the audience sat. But instead of looking out into the crowd or focusing on her opponent, she found herself looking down at her gloves, a worn but sturdy pair she’d kept for years. They weren’t the flashiest, but they’d served her well, and she couldn’t bear to replace them. They were the last gift he’d given her, and she’d held onto them through every fight since.

"Are you ready, Xael?" the referee asked, breaking through her thoughts.

She nodded, though her gaze was distant, her thoughts somewhere else entirely.

"Begin!" The bell rang, and her opponent moved forward, but Xael took a breath and steadied herself, letting her instincts take over. She ducked, sidestepping a quick jab, and then followed with a hook that caught him by surprise. Each move was calculated, each step purposeful. But as she fought, memories continued to filter through her mind, almost as if they were part of the match itself.

One memory stood out—a moment when she’d been a teenager, frustrated and restless, feeling like she was somehow too much and not enough all at once. She’d vented to him, words spilling out in a jumbled mess, expecting him to tell her to calm down. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d listened, nodding thoughtfully as she vented her frustration. And when she was done, he’d simply said, "Don’t hold back, Xael. Ever."

And she didn’t now. She threw another punch, landing it squarely, feeling a rush of adrenaline and a strange sense of peace as she fought.

The match was halfway over when she realized she was bleeding from a cut above her eyebrow. It stung, the warmth of it trickling down her cheek, but she could almost hear her father’s voice, clear as day, telling her not to back down, not to let a little blood throw her off.

Her opponent moved in with a swift combination, but Xael dodged, landing an uppercut that sent him reeling back. The crowd roared, but she couldn’t hear them—she was too focused, too caught up in the rhythm of the fight and the memories swirling around her like a whirlwind.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the round. She returned to her corner, breathing heavily, her coach quickly cleaning the cut above her eye. "Keep your guard up, Xael. Don’t get sloppy."

She nodded, but her mind was somewhere else. Somewhere quiet, back in that place where she could see him so clearly. She could almost feel his hand resting on her shoulder, his calm presence steadying her, as if he were right there, watching her from the sidelines.

As the final round began, she charged forward, every movement fueled by a mixture of grief and determination. She fought with everything she had, each punch thrown with the memory of him urging her forward. She was fighting for him, for herself, for every moment she’d spent trying to prove she was strong enough, fierce enough. And with each hit, she felt a piece of that heaviness lift, replaced by a warmth that spread through her chest, grounding her.

Finally, the last bell rang. The match was over. She stood in the center of the ring, her arms raised as the referee announced her as the victor, but the roar of the crowd barely registered. Instead, she looked up, as if searching for his face somewhere beyond the bright lights.

As she left the ring, drenched in sweat and feeling the exhaustion settle into her muscles, she made her way to the locker room. The moment she was alone, she took off her gloves and sat down on the bench, her hands still shaking. She closed her eyes, feeling a bittersweet smile tug at her lips.

She could almost hear him, his voice soft but full of pride. "You’re stronger than you think, Xael."

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she quickly brushed it away, letting out a shaky breath. She missed him—missed him more than she could put into words. But tonight, she felt as if he was there with her, in every punch, every step, every memory.

"Thanks, Dad," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I hope you’re watching."

And as she sat there, the weight of his absence seemed to lift just a little. The grief was still there, a part of her, but it no longer felt like a wound. It was a part of her strength, of her drive, and it always would be.

With one last look at the gloves in her hands, she stood, straightened her shoulders, and headed back out, ready to face the next match, knowing that he’d always be with her, a silent presence pushing her forward.

The crowd's roar was deafening as Xael held her fists high, basking in the victory. She had earned this, every ounce of it, and the audience’s cheers filled her with a powerful mix of pride and adrenaline. She stood at the center of the ring, panting but grinning, her eyes catching glimpses of people clapping and shouting her name. It felt good, like all the training, the bruises, the endless hours in the gym, were worth it.

Finally, when the noise started to fade and people were beginning to gather their things, she stepped out of the ring, wiping her face with a towel. As she moved, she kept up the proud, almost aggressive look that came so naturally to her now, but inside, she felt the ache of exhaustion setting in. Beneath the tough facade, she was just Xael, no more or less.

She finished toweling off and started toward the back to cool down. But just as she glanced around, she froze. There, by the gym entrance, stood someone she never thought she’d see here again—her father, Vedal.

She stared at him, unable to believe it was really him. He looked older, rougher, with lines on his face she hadn’t seen before, but the same black hair and green eyes. She blinked, almost thinking he’d disappear when she opened her eyes again, but he stayed right there, awkwardly, almost hesitantly looking her way.

A surge of anger and something she couldn’t quite name burned through her as she kept her gaze fixed on him. It had been two years since she’d last seen him—two years filled with distance, hurt, and every moment she spent wondering why he had disappeared. She thought she’d buried it all, the disappointment, the resentment, but here it was again, raw and sharp, brought to the surface just by him standing there.

Vedal shifted, clearly uncertain, but he took a step forward. The crowd around them had thinned, most people filing out, but she remained in place, waiting, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of making this easy.

“Hey,” he said finally, the word awkward and almost fragile, a strange contrast to the noise and energy that had filled the gym moments before.

Xael’s eyes narrowed, her expression hard as she took in the sight of him, her mind racing through everything she’d wanted to say over the past two years. She let the silence stretch, watching as he seemed to struggle for something more to say.

“What are you doing here?” she asked finally, her tone carrying the weight of all the questions she hadn’t been able to ask him.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, his voice rougher than she remembered. “It’s been a while.”

“Two years,” she corrected, her voice colder than she intended as she wiped at her forehead with the towel. “You didn’t come to watch me back then.”

Vedal winced, and for a moment, Xael thought he might leave right then and there. Part of her almost wanted him to, but another part—a part she hated to admit—wanted him to stay, to fight for this conversation. She wanted him to acknowledge what he’d done, to make up for the time he’d left her to navigate on her own.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the apology didn’t hit her the way she’d imagined it might. Instead, it left her feeling hollow, as though an apology could never truly fill the gap of those two years.

“What do you want, Vedal?” she said, the way she used his name sharp and intentional, a clear reminder of the distance between them. She watched as a flicker of hurt crossed his face, but she didn’t regret it. He deserved to feel that sting, even if it was only a fraction of what she’d felt.

“I want to talk,” he said, the quietness in his voice betraying his regret. “I want to make things right.”

Xael let the silence hang between them, staring at him with eyes that, for the first time, carried more coldness than warmth. She saw him for who he was now—someone who had made his choice, someone who had left. But even now, the part of her that remembered their shared moments, the times he’d been there when no one else was, made her hesitate.

“You’re late, Vedal. Really late,” she said finally, her voice softened just slightly, a tiny crack in the otherwise tough armor she wore.

“I know.” His voice was heavy, resigned, and she felt her own anger dissipate slightly. “But I’m here now. Please… let me talk to you.”

Xael searched his face, seeing the tiredness in his eyes, the sorrow he tried to hide but couldn’t quite manage. And even though she wanted to tell him to leave, to let him know that his chance had come and gone, she found herself relenting. She sighed, letting her shoulders relax, the residual tension slipping away.

“Fine,” she said, giving him a small, reluctant nod. “But don’t think this is going to be easy.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to be,” Vedal replied, visibly relieved.

Xael threw the towel over her shoulder and gestured toward the quieter part of the gym, her feet leading her away from the crowd. She didn’t look at him as he followed, keeping her expression neutral, guarded, as they moved to the back, where it was quieter, away from the prying eyes of those still lingering in the gym.

Xael stirred awake, the soft warmth enveloping her as she blinked against the morning light filtering through the curtains. She smiled, feeling Maxy snuggled against her chest, his gentle breaths calming her racing thoughts. He looked peaceful, his face relaxed in sleep, a slight smile dancing on his lips. She couldn't help but reach down to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

Despite the tranquility of the morning, her mind flickered to memories she couldn’t shake. The image of her father lying in that sterile hospital room, frail and fragile, filled her thoughts. She recalled the heavy weight of sadness that had settled over her as she held his hand, feeling the warmth slowly fading. But now, with Maxy beside her, she felt a different kind of warmth—one that reminded her of the love and support she had around her now.

As she watched Maxy, a pang of uncertainty washed over her. She wasn't sure what to make of her father’s final moments. Maybe it was the way he had tried to reach out to her, the way he had fought to mend their broken bond. Part of her wanted to cling to that memory, to the idea that he had tried to be the father she always wanted. But there was still a heaviness in her heart, a lingering sadness that she couldn’t quite shake.

She glanced at the small, framed photo on her bedside table—the last picture of her and Vedal together, both of them smiling. In that moment, she felt a mix of nostalgia and longing, wishing things could have been different. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the pillow. Maybe she was just sentimental, holding on to pieces of the past that were too fragile to keep. 

With a gentle smile, she looked down at Maxy again, feeling grateful for his presence. He had a way of grounding her, of reminding her that she wasn’t alone in this world. As she nestled deeper into her pillow, the warmth of his body against hers was a comfort, a reminder of the love they shared. She allowed herself to drift back to sleep, her thoughts merging into a hazy dream where her father’s face blended with Maxy’s, both of them smiling at her, both of them offering the love she so desperately needed.

In that dream, she felt a sense of peace. The memories didn’t hurt as much; instead, they wrapped around her like a warm blanket, reminding her that even in loss, there could still be love. She smiled in her sleep, a quiet acceptance blooming in her heart as she fell deeper into slumber, the morning light casting a soft glow around them, enveloping them both in warmth and safety.

The echoes of the concert faded into the distance as Lazeru stepped off the stage, adrenaline still coursing through her veins. The cheers and applause of the crowd hung in the air like a sweet melody, and she couldn’t help but grin as she looked out at the throngs of fans still buzzing with excitement. It had been an incredible night, but amidst the celebration, a bittersweet feeling lingered in her heart.

As she made her way through the backstage area, she spotted Nivi and Angela standing together, their expressions glowing with pride and love. Nivi waved her over, her long hair catching the stage lights, while Angela, with her regal bearing, held a bouquet of flowers, vibrant and colorful.

“Lazeru! You were amazing out there!” Nivi exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.

“Seriously, you rocked the stage,” Angela added, her voice warm and rich, a hint of playful sarcasm behind her words. “I’m still trying to process the fact that you made a crowd of thousands feel like they were just hanging out with friends in a living room.”

Lazeru laughed, a lightness filling her chest. “Thanks! I can’t believe how much energy they brought. It felt incredible.” She paused, glancing down at the flowers in Angela’s hand. “Are those for me?”

“Of course! Happy anniversary!” Angela said, presenting the bouquet like a trophy. “It’s been a year since… well, you know.”

“Yeah.” Lazeru’s smile faltered for a moment, her mind drifting to thoughts of her father. “It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since… since everything changed.”

Nivi stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Lazeru in a warm embrace. “We’re here for you. Always. You know that, right?”

Lazeru nodded, leaning into the comfort of her wives. “I just wish he could have seen this. He would have loved the energy of tonight’s concert.” Her voice was thick with emotion, and she felt a lump in her throat as memories washed over her—Vedal cheering her on, his laughter echoing in her ears.

“He’s here, in spirit,” Angela said softly, placing a hand on Lazeru’s shoulder. “He’ll always be a part of us, in everything we do.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lazeru replied, her voice steadier now. “But it doesn’t make the day any easier. It’s just… it feels heavy, you know?”

“Let’s honor him tonight,” Nivi suggested, her eyes brightening. “We can celebrate everything he meant to us. How about we go out for dinner, just the three of us? We can share stories and remember the good times.”

Lazeru smiled, the warmth of their support easing some of the weight in her chest. “That sounds perfect. I’d love to share some stories.” She took a deep breath, feeling a sense of connection with her wives that was comforting and grounding.

As they walked out of the venue together, the night air was cool against Lazeru’s skin. She felt lighter, buoyed by the love of her wives and the memories they shared. She glanced back at the stage, a flicker of inspiration igniting within her. “Let’s do it! Let’s write a song in his honor. Something that captures his spirit, his laughter.”

Nivi’s eyes lit up. “Yes! We could incorporate some of his favorite melodies, or even little anecdotes about him.”

“I love that idea,” Angela added, her voice filled with excitement. “It’ll be our tribute to him, a way to keep his memory alive.”

Lazeru felt a rush of determination. “Then it’s settled! We’ll start working on it tomorrow. For now, let’s go celebrate, and I’ll share my favorite Vedal stories.”

The quiet of the night wrapped around Lazeru like a gentle embrace as she stepped out onto the porch, careful not to disturb Nivi and Angela, who were peacefully asleep inside. The stars twinkled above, a serene backdrop to the whirlwind of memories swirling in her mind. She took a deep breath, the cool night air filling her lungs, and let her gaze drift into the distance.

Suddenly, a burst of laughter echoed in her mind, drawing her attention to a memory that flickered to life before her eyes. There she was, a smaller version of herself, racing around with two mismatched pans clanging together like makeshift cymbals. Her hair was wild, a halo of chaos around her, and the gleeful grin on her face was infectious.

Vedal knelt nearby, trying to catch her while laughing, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Lazeru! Stop! You’re going to wake the neighbors!” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of amusement and exasperation.

But the younger Lazeru was undeterred, darting past him with a gleeful shriek. “But Dad! I’m making music! Can’t you hear it?” She slammed the pans together again, the sound echoing through the backyard.

“Music? More like a marching band of mischief!” Vedal chuckled, attempting to grab her but missing as she dodged away, her laughter ringing out like pure joy. The sight of her father, a figure of patience and playful frustration, filled Lazeru with warmth.

The memory unfolded like a cherished story, each moment vivid and alive. She remembered how Vedal would eventually give in, picking up his own pot and joining in her silly parade, creating a cacophony of sound that filled their home with laughter. They would dance around the yard, lost in their own world of music and silliness, where nothing else mattered but the bond they shared.

As the memory faded, Lazeru felt a pang of longing. She missed those carefree days, the innocence of her childhood when her father’s laughter was a constant presence in her life. She missed how he made the mundane feel magical, how he would drop everything just to join her in her latest escapade.

Sitting on the porch, she hugged her knees to her chest, allowing the bittersweet ache of nostalgia to wash over her. The stars above twinkled brightly, almost like the music they used to create together—every note a memory, every glimmer a reminder of the love that still resonated within her.

Lazeru tiptoed back inside, the warmth of the house embracing her as she moved through the quiet rooms. Her wives were still asleep, peacefully dreaming, and she felt a pang of gratitude for the love they shared. Yet, something tugged at her, a desire to reach out across time and hold onto a memory she wasn’t ready to let go.

She found herself drifting toward the piano, the one she hadn’t played in so long, the one that seemed to wait for moments like this. Sitting down, she took a deep breath, her fingers hovering over the keys in the hush of the room. Then, gently, she began to play, the soft notes filling the air like whispered secrets.

Her voice, barely above a whisper, joined the melody, words spilling forth that felt both new and ancient, words that held her heart in their gentle cadence.

"If I could hold on to you, for just one more day  

Through the storms and the silence, I’d find my way  

When the world turns cold, and the night feels long  

I’d give anything, just to hear your song."

As the words poured out, her mind drifted back—she was three years old, perched on her father’s lap as his strong hands moved gracefully over the keys. Vedal’s arms encircled her, guiding her gently as he played, his voice low and comforting as he sang the very same song to her. It wasn’t a lesson but a gift, something he gave her not for today but for a tomorrow she couldn’t yet understand.

Back in the present, Lazeru’s fingers danced across the keys, letting the music speak for her. The years hadn’t dulled the memory; if anything, they had etched it deeper, the melody becoming a lifeline to the father who had left such an indelible mark on her heart.

"With every note I play, I feel you here  

A memory, a melody, so crystal clear  

In each chord, in each word, you’re by my side  

And even now, you’re my strength, my guide."

Her voice cracked slightly, emotion surging through her as she sang, her younger self echoing in the recesses of her memory, gazing up at Vedal with wide, wondering eyes. The little girl had felt nothing but pure awe for her father then, watching his fingers create something beautiful out of silence.

The music swelled, and she could almost feel the weight of his hands over hers, guiding her with love and patience, showing her not just how to play but how to feel.

As she finished the last note, she could hear her tiny voice in her mind, breaking the quiet after Vedal had sung to her. Her younger self had looked up, her eyes filled with innocent curiosity, and asked, “Daddy, why do you play this song?”

Vedal had chuckled softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Because, sweet girl, I’m giving you a memory. Something you can hold onto when I’m not here.”

Her heart ached at the tenderness of those words, their truth only now dawning on her. She hadn’t understood then, but she understood now. This was the gift he had left her—a piece of his heart she could carry with her, always.

In the present, she brushed away a tear, her voice barely a whisper as she echoed the words she’d once spoken so easily.

“I love you, Dad.”

And somewhere in the silence, she felt his presence as if he were there, still sitting beside her. She let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes as a final thought escaped her lips.

“I miss you.”

The house settled into quiet once more, the piano’s final notes lingering in the air, carrying her love and grief into the stillness of the night.

Lazeru sat backstage, the air buzzing with post-concert excitement and lingering echoes of applause. She could hardly contain her joy as she waited for Vedal, her heart racing at the thought of seeing him. When she heard the knock on the door, she swung it open, her face lighting up at the sight of him.

"Dad!" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of surprise and delight. Without hesitation, she pulled him into a warm embrace, feeling the familiar strength of his arms wrap around her.

"Of course I did," Vedal replied, hugging her back tightly. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world."

Pulling back to look up at him, Lazeru couldn’t help but beam with happiness. "You’ve been to so many of my concerts, but it always means the world to me when you show up."

Vedal chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "You were incredible up there. I’ve never seen anything like it."

"Thanks, Dad." Her smile softened, and she stepped aside to let him into the dressing room. "Come on, let’s talk for a bit."

As Vedal entered, a sense of relief washed over him. Out of all his daughters, Lazeru had been the one to stick by him through everything. She might not know about his illness yet, but she had always been a steady presence in his life, and he cherished that more than he could express.

They settled into the plush chairs in her dressing room, the echoes of the crowd outside fading into a soft hum. Vedal leaned back, allowing himself to relax in the comforting presence of his daughter. Lazeru’s excitement and warmth filled the space, lightening the heavyweight he felt inside.

"So," Lazeru began, her sly grin breaking through the quiet, "I got married."

Vedal raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "What? To whom?"

"Two girlfriends, actually," Lazeru replied, leaning back with a self-satisfied smirk. "Yup, two at once. You could say I’m quite the charmer."

Vedal blinked, trying to process the information. "Wait, two girlfriends? At the same time?"

Lazeru burst out laughing at his bewilderment. "I know, I know! But it’s worked out great. They’re both amazing, and we’ve got this beautiful little arrangement. No drama, no jealousy. It’s... weirdly perfect."

He couldn’t help but laugh along with her, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can’t believe you pulled that off. You’ve always been the calm one, but two wives? That’s impressive."

"I guess that just means I’m twice as charming," she teased, giving him a wink before leaning forward, her voice lowering slightly. "Besides, I have a lot of patience, Dad. You know that."

"Yeah, I’ve always admired that about you," Vedal replied, his voice warm with pride. "You’ve always had a way of making things work."

Lazeru tilted her head, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "So, how did things go with Xael? I heard you finally met up."

Vedal sighed, the tension from earlier creeping back into his shoulders. "We talked. It wasn’t easy, but... we’re making progress. She’s still herself, rough around the edges, but I think we’ve mended a few things."

"That’s good." Lazeru nodded, her expression earnest. "You know, she cares about you, even if she doesn’t always show it. I’m glad you two had the chance to talk."

Vedal nodded, feeling lighter at her reassurance. "It’s been a long time coming."

A comfortable silence enveloped them for a moment, but it was soon punctuated by Lazeru’s laughter. "Remember that one time Comelly and Dei Dei knocked me out?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

Vedal’s eyes widened as a laugh escaped his lips. "Oh, right! They thought you were a burglar! Comelly was in her serious mode, wasn’t she?"

"Dead serious," Lazeru groaned, her laughter ringing out. "I was visiting late at night, trying to sneak in because I didn’t want to wake you. Next thing I know, I’m waking up on the floor with a bump on my head."

Vedal wiped a tear from his eye, shaking his head. "I should’ve warned them you were coming. But that’s what you get for sneaking in like that!"

"Lesson learned," Lazeru grinned. "I still can’t believe it happened, though. You’d think they’d recognize their sister!"

"Well, you were wearing all black and a mask. You kinda looked like a ninja burglar."

Comelly moved quietly through the dimly lit room, the soft sounds of Cerber's restless breathing filling the air. She had been taking care of Cerber for the past few days, trying her best to nurse her back to health. The sight of Cerber, usually so lively, now frail and sick, tugged at Comelly's heartstrings.

Cerber lay curled up on the couch, her blonde hair spilling over the cushions, her purple eyes appearing glassy and unfocused. She glanced at Comelly as she approached, a small, weak smile flickering on her lips.

"Hey, Comelly," Cerber murmured, her voice hoarse. "You don't have to keep watching me. I’m fine, really."

Comelly sat down beside her, brushing a strand of hair away from Cerber's forehead. "You’re not fine, Cerber. You need to rest. I’m not going anywhere."

Cerber chuckled softly, a sound laced with fatigue. "You’re a good kid. Always looking out for everyone." Her expression turned serious as she added, "But I’m just... I’m just tired. Today’s a hard day."

Comelly felt a pang in her chest, remembering what today was. "It’s the anniversary, isn’t it?" she asked gently.

Cerber nodded slowly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Yeah. I can’t believe it’s been a year since Vedal..." Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, the room was thick with silence.

Comelly bit her lip, feeling the bitterness rise within her. Vedal had been the source of so many mixed emotions for her—love, neglect, anger, and ultimately, loss. Cerber had stepped in during the times when Vedal had failed to be there for her, becoming a mother figure in ways Comelly never thought possible.

"I loved him, you know," Cerber said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. "A long time ago. He was... special to me."

Comelly glanced up, surprised. "Really? I mean, I knew you were close, but I didn’t know it was like that."

Cerber sighed, her eyes drifting toward the window, where the sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow around the room. "We shared a bond that was deeper than friendship. He understood me in ways no one else did. But he got lost in his own world, and it hurt... it still hurts."

A knot formed in Comelly’s stomach as she listened. She couldn't deny the warmth she felt for Cerber, who had always been there for her, even when Vedal had not. "I just... I don’t know how you can still love him after everything," Comelly admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. "He was never there for me."

Cerber turned her head, looking at Comelly with a gentle smile that held a hint of sadness. "He made mistakes, yes. But he also loved us in his own way. It’s complicated. He was human, after all."

"But he could’ve tried harder!" Comelly shot back, her voice rising. "He left us all when we needed him most!"

"I know," Cerber said softly, her tone soothing. "I felt that too. But holding onto the bitterness won't help you, Comelly. It only makes things harder."

Comelly’s heart ached as she fought against the emotions swirling inside her. She took a deep breath, trying to find her grounding. "I just wish things had been different."

"I do too," Cerber replied, her voice filled with compassion. "But we have to remember the good parts, the love he gave us. Those memories are important."

Comelly glanced away, her thoughts tangled between resentment and longing. "I know... It’s just hard."

Cerber reached out, resting her hand on Comelly's arm. "I’m here for you, just like I always have been. You’re my little one, and I love you for that. We can get through this together."

Comelly looked into Cerber's purple eyes, finding comfort in the warmth of her gaze. "I love you too, Cerber. You’re more of a mom to me than he ever was."

"That means the world to me," Cerber said, a tear escaping down her cheek. "I promise, we’ll keep his memory alive together. He wouldn’t want us to be sad."

As Cerber settled back into her pillow, Comelly leaned in, resting her head against her mother figure’s shoulder. They sat together in silence, united in their shared memories and losses, the bond between them growing stronger amidst the pain.

Outside, the world moved on, but within the walls of their home, they found solace in each other, honoring the love they had lost while nurturing the love that remained.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the horizon, creating a perfect backdrop for a day that Comelly had looked forward to for weeks. It was a rare Saturday where Vedal had promised to spend time with her, and excitement bubbled within her. She had planned every detail meticulously, from the picnic she wanted to share in the park to the small surprises she had in store.

As she paced back and forth in her room, she could hardly contain her anticipation. She had chosen her favorite dress—a light, flowy garment that danced around her knees, dotted with colorful flowers that felt like an extension of her joy. She wanted everything to be perfect, a special day that would remain etched in her memory.

Finally, the clock struck two. Comelly took a deep breath and headed down the stairs, her heart racing as she approached the living room where Vedal sat. He was engrossed in his work, papers scattered across the coffee table, a deep furrow etched across his brow.

“Dad!” she called out, a hint of excitement in her voice, hoping to break through his concentration.

Vedal looked up, a mix of surprise and guilt flashing across his features. “Oh, hey, Comelly,” he said, his tone distracted. “I didn’t hear you come down. What’s up?”

“I have a surprise for us today!” Comelly declared, her smile bright and eager. She had rehearsed this moment in her mind, wanting to spark the same excitement in him.

Vedal leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth twitching into a tentative smile. “A surprise, huh? What is it?”

“We’re going to the park for a picnic!” she exclaimed, bouncing on her heels. “I packed sandwiches, fruit, and even some cookies!”

“Cookies, huh?” Vedal chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You really went all out. Sounds great.”

“Can you come, please?” Comelly asked, her eyes wide with hope. “I really want to spend time with you.”

He hesitated, glancing back at the mountain of work in front of him. Comelly could see the internal struggle playing out on his face. He always had so much to do, so many responsibilities that weighed him down. But today, today was about them—father and daughter.

“Alright,” he finally said, a hint of warmth returning to his voice. “Let me grab a few things, and we’ll head out.”

Comelly squealed in delight, clapping her hands together as she watched him stand up. It was the first time in a long while that he had agreed to take a break from his work for her. Her heart soared, and she hurried to gather the picnic basket, her excitement bubbling over.

As they walked toward the park, the sun bathed everything in golden light. Comelly chartered away, sharing stories about her week at school, her friends, and even the new puppy her neighbor had gotten. Vedal listened, nodding along and interjecting with questions, which made her beam with pride.

“Do you remember when you used to take me to the park when I was little?” she asked, looking up at him with shining eyes. “We would fly kites, and you taught me how to climb trees.”

Vedal chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his gaze. “Yeah, I remember. You were so determined to climb that big oak tree. I thought I’d have to rescue you a couple of times.”

“I did get stuck, didn’t I?” Comelly giggled, the memory filling her with warmth. “But you saved me, like a hero!”

They reached the park, and Vedal found a perfect spot beneath a large oak tree, its branches providing a comfortable shade. Comelly spread out the blanket, arranging the food just right, her heart fluttering with joy as she set everything up.

“This looks amazing,” Vedal said, genuinely impressed as he surveyed the spread. “You really thought of everything.”

Comelly beamed at the compliment, her cheeks warming. “I wanted it to be special,” she admitted. “Just like the old days.”

They sat down together, and Comelly handed him a sandwich. As they began to eat, Vedal took a moment to relax, the stress of the world seeming to melt away. It was nice—simple and pure, just a father and daughter enjoying each other’s company.

“Did I tell you about the art project we’re working on in class?” Comelly asked, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “We’re creating our own masterpieces. I’m painting a sunset!”

Vedal smiled, nodding encouragingly. “That sounds beautiful. You’ve always had an eye for color, Comelly.”

“Thanks, Dad!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up. “I want to show you when I finish it. Maybe you could help me with it?”

“Of course. I’d love to see it,” Vedal replied, genuinely interested.

As they talked, Comelly felt a sense of warmth spreading through her chest. This was the connection she had longed for—the moments that reminded her that he cared, that he was still her father beneath all the weight he carried.

After they finished eating, Vedal leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes for a moment. “It’s nice to just take a break,” he said, almost to himself. “I don’t do this enough.”

Comelly seized the opportunity, her heart racing as she summoned the courage to ask what had been on her mind for so long. “Dad, why do you work so much? You’re always busy.”

Vedal opened his eyes, regarding her with a thoughtful expression. “It’s complicated, sweetheart. I have a lot of responsibilities. I have to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“But you don’t have to do it alone,” Comelly said, her voice firm. “We’re all here for you. I want to help, even if it’s just a little.”

He hesitated, the shadows flickering across his face. “It’s just... sometimes I feel like I need to carry everything. I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

Comelly frowned, a surge of determination igniting within her. “But I want to be there for you! You’re my dad, and I love you. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

Vedal smiled softly, a hint of admiration in his gaze. “I appreciate that, Comelly. You’re wise beyond your years.”

“I’m just trying to understand,” she replied, her voice steady. “I miss the times we spent together. I want to make more memories like this.”

“Me too,” Vedal said, the sincerity in his voice warming her heart. “I promise I’ll try to be more present. For you.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of birds chirping in the distance and the rustle of leaves above them. Comelly watched as Vedal relaxed, his expression softening as he seemed to let the world fade away, even if just for a moment.

“Can we play a game?” Comelly asked suddenly, eager to keep the joyful energy flowing. “How about I spy?”

“Sure, why not?” Vedal replied, leaning in with a smile. “You go first.”

Comelly looked around, scanning the area. “I spy with my little eye something that is… green!”

“Hmm…” Vedal mused, glancing around the park. “Is it the grass?”

Comelly shook her head, her smile widening. “Nope! Try again.”

He squinted, pretending to think hard. “Is it that tree over there?”

“Yes!” Comelly squealed, bursting with laughter at his excitement. “You got it!”

As they continued to play, the laughter between them grew, filling the park with warmth. For that afternoon, the burdens of life felt distant. Comelly couldn’t remember the last time she felt so connected to him, and she wished the moment could last forever.

After several rounds of the game, Vedal glanced at the sky, noticing the sun beginning to dip below the horizon. “We should probably head back soon,” he said, his tone reluctant.

“Do we have to?” Comelly pouted, wanting to savor every second of this beautiful day. “Can’t we stay a little longer?”

Vedal chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. “I wish we could, but I have a few things I need to take care of at home. We can plan another picnic soon, okay?”

“Promise?” she asked, her eyes wide with hope.

“Promise,” he replied, his smile genuine.

They began to pack up their things, and as Comelly folded the blanket, a thought crossed her mind. “Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he said, looking up from the basket.

“Why do you think people remember the good times more than the bad?” she asked, her curiosity shining through.

Vedal paused, considering her question. “I think it’s because the good times remind us of love and happiness. They shape who we are. The bad times are harder to hold onto, but they can teach us important lessons too. It’s all about balance.”

“Balance…” Comelly repeated, nodding thoughtfully. “I like that.”

“Just remember, Comelly,” Vedal said softly, “no matter what happens, the love we share will always be the most important part.”

As they walked back home, hand in hand, Comelly felt a sense of warmth enveloping her heart. This day had been more than she had hoped for; it had been a reminder of the bond they shared, one that could withstand the tests of time.

Later that evening, as they settled in at home, Comelly felt a rush of affection for her father. She wanted to hold onto the memory of that day, the laughter and joy they shared, and the promise he had made. As she climbed into bed, she closed her eyes, replaying the moments in her mind, cherishing the connection they had rekindled.

But as the days turned into weeks, life returned to its usual rhythm, and the pressures of Vedal’s responsibilities crept back in, stealing him away once more. Comelly tried to hold onto that day, but she soon realized that memories could only last so long.

Still, she held hope in her heart that one day, they would share another moment like that, a moment where everything felt right in the world, a moment where she was the center of his attention.

Weeks later, Comelly found herself sitting at the kitchen table, the light filtering through the window as she doodled in her sketchbook, a page filled with vibrant colors. Her art was her refuge, a way to express the feelings that sometimes felt too big for words.

Just then, she heard the familiar sound of the front door opening. Her heart skipped a beat as Vedal stepped inside, looking worn but hopeful.

“Hey, Comelly!” he called out, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Dad!” she exclaimed, jumping up and rushing over to him. “You’re home early!”

“Yeah, I managed to finish a few things faster than expected,” he replied, kneeling down to her level. “What have you been working on?”

“Look!” Comelly said, flipping the sketchbook around to show him her drawings. “I’m trying to capture the park we went to.”

Vedal’s eyes lit up as he examined her work. “These are incredible, Comelly! You have real talent.”

“Thanks!” she replied, her cheeks warming at his praise. “I was thinking maybe we could go back to the park together soon?”

He hesitated for a moment, the familiar weight of his responsibilities creeping back into his expression. “I’d love that. Let me check my schedule, okay?”

Comelly nodded, her heart fluttering with hope. “Okay!”

As the days turned into weeks again, the promise hung in the air like a fragile thread. Comelly clung to the memory of their picnic, the laughter, the shared moments. Despite the challenges, despite the distance, she remained hopeful that her father would return to her, just as he had that day beneath the oak tree.

Little did she know that the challenges ahead would test their bond in ways she couldn’t yet imagine, but for now, she cherished the light of that memory, a beacon guiding her through the shadows of uncertainty.

The sun blazed overhead, bathing the bustling town in its warm embrace. Comelly walked beside Cerber, her heart heavy but her spirits lifted slightly by the presence of her surrogate mother. The ice cream shop stood at the corner, its bright colors and cheerful music beckoning passersby. It was a small place, known for its quirky flavors and homemade cones, and on this hot summer day, it seemed like the perfect escape.

As they approached, Comelly’s fingers drummed nervously against her thigh. “Can we get the blueberry lavender?” she asked, glancing up at Cerber with hopeful eyes.

Cerber smiled softly, her purple eyes sparkling with warmth. “Of course, sweetie. That sounds delicious. We can get whatever you want.”

The bell above the door chimed as they stepped inside, the cool air wrapping around them like a gentle hug. Comelly surveyed the colorful menu board, her heart fluttering between excitement and disappointment. She had been looking forward to this day, a much-needed break from the stress of her home life. With Vedal’s work piling up and his increasing absences, moments like this with Cerber became even more precious.

As they stood in line, Comelly’s thoughts wandered back to Vedal. It had been six months since he had last spent quality time with her. His promises of being more present faded with each passing day. He was consumed by his responsibilities, leaving her feeling neglected and alone. Today, when she had approached him with her plans for the day, he had barely glanced at her, buried in paperwork. 

“I can’t today, Comelly. There’s just too much to do,” he had said, his voice distant. “I’m sorry.”

Her heart had sunk. “But Dad…,” she had started, but the look in his eyes had silenced her. She knew better than to press him when he was in that mode. 

Now, standing in the ice cream shop with Cerber, she tried to shake off the lingering sadness. 

“What flavors are you thinking about?” Cerber asked, her voice soothing as she nudged Comelly gently.

“Um, I think I’ll have the blueberry lavender and maybe a scoop of strawberry,” Comelly replied, forcing a smile.

“That sounds perfect,” Cerber encouraged, her smile brightening the room. “I’ll get the chocolate mint and vanilla. We can share!”

Comelly nodded, feeling a warm sense of comfort wash over her. Cerber had always been there, a constant source of support. As they reached the counter, Comelly ordered their ice creams, excitement bubbling up again as the server handed them their cones, carefully piled high with colorful scoops.

Once outside, they found a small bench to sit on. The sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground, creating a picturesque scene. Comelly took a bite of her ice cream, the sweet and slightly floral flavor dancing on her tongue. 

“Wow, this is really good!” she exclaimed, savoring the taste. 

Cerber took a moment to enjoy her own cone, watching Comelly with a warm smile. “I’m glad you like it, sweetheart. You deserve a treat after everything you’ve been dealing with.”

Comelly paused, her expression faltering. “I guess… It's just been really hard lately. I miss spending time with Dad.”

Cerber’s smile faded, her eyes softening with understanding. “I know. It’s tough when the people we love are busy. But you know he cares about you, right?”

“I know he does,” Comelly replied, her voice quieter. “But it feels like he cares more about his work than about me. It’s been months since we really talked, and when he does come home, he’s so tired. I just want him to notice me.”

Cerber reached over and took Comelly’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re so important to him, Comelly. Sometimes, adults get caught up in their responsibilities and forget to take a step back. That doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”

“I just feel so alone,” Comelly admitted, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “I try to talk to him, but he’s always distracted. I want him to see me—not just as his daughter, but as someone he enjoys being around.”

Cerber’s heart ached for Comelly. She could see the hurt in her eyes, the longing for connection that had become more palpable as the months wore on. “It’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to want that connection. Have you thought about writing him a letter? Sometimes, putting your feelings down on paper can help.”

Comelly considered it, her brow furrowing in thought. “I don’t know… what if he doesn’t read it? Or what if he just brushes it off?”

“Then at least you’ve expressed your feelings. And if he loves you, he’ll take the time to read it,” Cerber replied gently. “It might even open up a conversation between you two.”

“I guess I could try,” Comelly said hesitantly. “But it just hurts so much. I see other kids with their dads, and I can’t help but feel jealous.”

“That’s natural,” Cerber said, her voice reassuring. “It’s hard to watch others have what you want. But you have to remember that every family is different. You have me, and I’m here for you, no matter what. You’re not alone.”

“Thanks, Cerber,” Comelly said softly, a small smile returning to her lips. “It means a lot to have you here.”

As they continued to enjoy their ice cream, Comelly felt a sense of comfort in Cerber’s presence. She might not have the relationship with Vedal that she longed for, but having Cerber beside her made the world feel a little less heavy. 

After finishing their cones, they strolled through the park, taking in the sights and sounds around them. Children played on the swings, couples strolled hand in hand, and the warm breeze carried the laughter of friends enjoying the day. 

“Let’s sit on that bench,” Cerber suggested, pointing to a nearby spot under a sprawling willow tree. 

They settled onto the bench, the leaves rustling gently overhead. Cerber leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment. “It’s so nice to just take a break and enjoy the day.”

“Yeah,” Comelly agreed, glancing at the ground. “I wish I could do this more often.”

Cerber turned to her, her expression serious yet kind. “You deserve to take time for yourself. You’re growing up, and it’s important to have moments where you can just breathe and be.”

Comelly nodded, her heart swelling with gratitude. “I know you’re right. I just wish I didn’t feel so lost sometimes.”

“It’s okay to feel lost,” Cerber said softly. “Life can be overwhelming, especially when things change. But remember, it’s okay to reach out for help. You don’t have to carry this weight alone.”

Comelly looked at Cerber, her heart aching at the understanding in her eyes. “I feel like I’m always reaching out, but it never gets through to him. I want him to know how much I care, how much I need him.”

“Have you thought about doing something together that he enjoys?” Cerber suggested. “Something that might remind him of the bond you have?”

“Like what?” Comelly asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Maybe find an activity you both used to enjoy. Something that can spark those memories. It could help him reconnect with you,” Cerber said. “It could be anything—a movie night, playing a game, or even just talking about something he loves.”

Comelly considered this, feeling a flicker of hope. “He used to love going to the lake and fishing. I remember those days so clearly. I was so little, but I loved it when he’d take me out on the boat.”

“Then why not invite him to go fishing with you?” Cerber suggested. “Bring up those memories and show him how much they meant to you. He might just need a little nudge to remember.”

“I think I might try that,” Comelly said, her heart lifting at the thought. “It’s worth a shot.”

“Absolutely. You’re brave for wanting to reach out. I’m proud of you,” Cerber said, her smile radiating warmth. 

As the afternoon sun began to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink, Comelly felt a sense of peace wash over her. Sitting here with Cerber, she realized that while things weren’t perfect, she had people who cared for her. And as the weight of her worries lifted slightly, she felt the courage to face the future.

“Can we come back here again next week?” Comelly asked, her voice hopeful.

“Of course. Anytime you want,” Cerber replied, her tone genuine. “This is our special time together.”

Comelly smiled, feeling a warmth bloom in her chest. “Thanks, Cerber. You really are the best.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking and laughing, the shadows growing long as the sun set. Cerber shared stories from her past, painting vivid images that transported Comelly to a world filled with adventures. The stories were comforting, weaving a tapestry of love and connection that filled the spaces where Comelly felt empty.

As they eventually made their way back home, Comelly’s heart felt lighter. She knew she still had challenges ahead, especially with Vedal, but she also felt empowered by the support around her. Cerber’s words echoed in her mind, a gentle reminder that she was never truly alone.

Later that night, as Comelly lay in bed, she took out her notebook, the pages filled with her thoughts and feelings i nspired by Cerber, she began to write a letter to Vedal, pouring her heart onto the page. She wrote about her longing for connection, her memories of fishing at the lake, and how much she missed him. 

With each word, she felt a sense of release, as if the weight she had carried for so long was being lifted. This letter was her way of reaching out, of bridging the gap that had formed between them. 

Once she finished, she placed the letter under her pillow, feeling a mixture of nervousness and hope. It was a step toward healing, a step toward reconciling the bond she so desperately wanted with her father.

As she closed her eyes, she thought about the upcoming week—the possibilities of fishing trips and shared laughter. No matter what challenges lay ahead, she knew she could face them with Cerber by her side. 

And in that moment of quiet reflection, Comelly drifted off to sleep, feeling a little less lost and a little more like herself.

The living room felt like a furnace, tension radiating through every corner, pressing down on Comelly until she could barely breathe. She curled up on the couch, pressing her hands over her ears, as Cerber’s voice echoed off the walls, each word sharp and pointed. Vedal’s voice rose in retaliation, equally vicious, as they tore into each other with words that cut to the bone. She knew she was at the center of this storm, her confessions to Cerber only hours earlier having ignited this brutal confrontation.

For months, she’d kept it bottled inside, the aching emptiness of a father’s love that had long since turned cold. She hadn’t wanted this fight—hadn’t wanted to see her two closest family members, the people she loved most, ripping each other apart. Guilt tore through her as she stared down at her hands, wanting desperately to stop it, but knowing this confrontation was far beyond anything she could fix.

“I am so sick of this, Vedal,” Cerber’s voice rang out, barely holding back the anger trembling in her words. “You act like she doesn’t exist until it’s convenient for you, and then you go back to ignoring her! She’s your daughter. Your own flesh and blood.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what my own daughter means to me,” Vedal shot back, his voice like ice cracking. “You don’t get to come in here and judge me, Cerber. You think you understand everything? You think you know what I have on my plate?”

“I know enough to see that you’re failing her!” Cerber’s voice broke for a moment, her frustration bleeding through. “How can you not see what this is doing to her? She’s been dying for you to pay attention, to even look at her, and all you do is push her aside like she doesn’t even matter!”

“Oh, so you’re the expert now?” Vedal sneered, anger flaring in his eyes. “Don’t pretend you’re selflessly swooping in here out of the goodness of your heart. I see what you’re doing, Cerber. You think I don’t notice the way you try to worm your way into my life, taking on a role that was never yours.”

Cerber’s face twisted with hurt, then fury. “You’re unbelievable,” she spat. “You’re so selfish that you can’t even see what she needs because you’re too busy drowning in your own self-pity. You push away everyone who cares about you, and for what? Your pride?”

Vedal scoffed, a harsh, humorless laugh escaping him. “Look who’s talking. You think you’re this saint, stepping in when things get tough. But you’re nothing more than a shadow trying to fill a void you have no right to fill. You don’t even know what it means to be a parent.”

Comelly squeezed her eyes shut, the weight of their words pressing down on her like an unbearable burden. She could still remember the warm, safe feeling of Cerber’s arms around her earlier, her sobs muffled as she poured out her pain, her longing for a father who no longer seemed to care. But now, she felt the sharp edges of regret. Had she done this? Had she broken something precious between them, something that maybe couldn’t be fixed?

Cerber’s voice rang out again, harsh and unyielding. “You know, maybe I don’t understand everything, but I can see that you’ve lost any sense of love or loyalty for your own daughter. You know who would hate this more than anyone? Vero. She would never forgive you for what you’re doing to Comelly.”

At the mention of Vero’s name, the room went silent. Comelly’s heart dropped, her eyes flicking up just in time to see Vedal’s expression twist—shock, hurt, and something darker flashing across his face.

He stared at Cerber, his voice low and venomous. “You don’t get to bring her into this. You don’t get to use Vero against me like that. I knew my daughter. You can’t even pretend to understand what it’s like to lose her. And you think you’re just going to walk in here and play mother, like you’re going to fix everything?” His words turned scalding, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “You’re just filling a void because you lost your own child. Don’t you dare project that onto my family.”

The air grew thick, and Comelly’s hands fell from her ears as she glanced between them, her heart racing with fear. Cerber’s face went pale, and for a moment, she seemed frozen, hurt flashing across her expression.

Vedal’s words hung heavy in the air, and for a second, he seemed to realize the weight of what he had just said. His eyes widened slightly, a flash of guilt softening his gaze as he looked at Cerber.

At that, Cerber’s eyes narrowed, his face contorted in fury. But before he could respond and apologize, something snapped. Without warning, Cerber lunged at him, her hands shoving him back with a force that took them both by surprise.

Vedal stumbled, but his expression quickly hardened, and he grabbed her shoulders, pushing back. The two grappled, wrestling in a storm of anger and frustration that had been brewing for far too long. They crashed into the coffee table, knocking it over as they struggled, each one driven by years of buried resentment.

Comelly’s heart raced, fear flooding her senses as she rushed forward. “Stop!” she cried, her voice shaking as she tried to pull them apart. “Please, stop!”

Her voice cut through the chaos, and with a final, harsh push, Cerber tore herself away from Vedal, breathing heavily as she glared down at him. The look in her eyes was one of pure hatred, something Comelly had never seen in her before. She turned to Comelly, her expression softening slightly, and reached out a hand.

“It’s time to go, Comelly,” she said, her voice tight but gentle.

Comelly stared between them, her heart pounding in her chest as she took Cerber’s hand, feeling the strength and comfort in her grip. She glanced at Vedal, seeing the pain in his eyes, the anger and regret swirling together, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay. Not after everything that had just happened.

Without another word, Cerber led her outside, the door closing behind them with a finality that felt like a heavy weight settling over her heart.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the faint clinking of silverware as Comelly absentmindedly pushed her food around her plate. Cerber sat across from her, her gentle gaze steady, waiting with patience that Comelly had come to appreciate over the years. Outside, the sky was a dusky pink, casting a warm glow into the kitchen, a contrast to the cool, reflective silence between them.

Comelly took a small bite, finally glancing up to meet Cerber’s eyes. “He tried, didn’t he?” Her voice was softer than she’d intended, almost as if she were afraid to disturb the calm that had settled around them. “I mean…for everything that happened. For how absent he was.”

Cerber offered a small smile, understanding and sadness flickering in her eyes. “He did. In his own way.” She paused, searching for words that might make sense of something so tangled and difficult. “Vedal…he wasn’t a perfect man. He struggled with so many things, even if he didn’t want to admit it. But he loved you, Comelly. Even if it wasn’t the way you might have needed.”

Comelly sighed, setting down her fork. It felt strange, thinking of him like that, as someone who tried but simply couldn’t meet her halfway. “It’s like he wanted to be this…important figure for everyone, and somehow, I got lost in that.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. “There were so many moments I wished he would just…be there. Really there.”

Cerber nodded, her face softening. “He was trying to live up to an ideal. And I think, somewhere along the way, he forgot that love doesn’t need to be perfect to be meaningful.” She took a slow breath. “You know, I think he was trying to protect you, in his own way. He thought he was shielding you from his own brokenness by staying distant.”

Comelly shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “But I needed him to be there, flaws and all. I didn’t care if he wasn’t perfect; I just wanted my dad.”

Cerber reached across the table, her hand warm and comforting on top of Comelly’s. “And that’s why it’s hard, isn’t it? Wanting someone to be something they can’t always be.” She squeezed her hand gently. “But you’re allowed to feel angry about that. And sad. And everything else.”

Comelly looked up, meeting Cerber’s soft gaze, and a sense of peace began to settle over her. She realized that maybe her father had tried, and maybe that had been enough for him. But it didn’t have to be enough for her.

Dei Dei slouched over the flashing arcade console, the multicolored lights casting shadows across her face. Every now and then, she thought she saw him—Vedal’s reflection in the glass beside her, his warm smile encouraging her through the final level. It was a ghostly comfort she clung to, replaying memories of him cheering her on, his laughter blending with the arcade’s clinking coins and electronic beeps.

Her hands faltered over the buttons as she stared at the empty spot beside her. Vedal used to stand there, focused and playful, competing with her in friendly matches. Now, though, no one was there to share in the victory or console her when she lost. The absence gnawed at her. The arcade had been their spot—a small corner of joy she’d relied on.

She blinked, swallowing back a wave of loneliness. She was here, still, keeping the tradition alive alone, but the hollow feeling lingered. She whispered to herself, "If you were here, I’d beat you this time." But there was no answer.

Dei Dei’s fingers froze on the buttons as she heard a familiar voice behind her, cool and steady, almost mechanical but with a subtle softness that made it unmistakable.

"Dei Dei," the voice said in a monotone, "I’d like to join you."

Dei Dei turned around, her heart lifting slightly as she saw her sister Zero standing there, her usual stoic expression softened by a hint of curiosity. Zero’s white hair fell like snow over her shoulders, and her gray eyes seemed to reflect the flashing lights around them, glowing softly in the dim, colorful arcade. Zero was an unusual player—always precise, calm, and calculating, qualities that made her a challenge to play with but also incredibly fun in her own way.

"Zero!" Dei Dei’s face lit up, some of her sadness momentarily forgotten. "I didn’t think you’d ever want to join me here."

Zero gave a slight nod, her head tilting as she studied the arcade screen. "I know it was a place you and Father frequented. I wanted to understand it better."

Dei Dei’s heart twisted at her sister’s straightforwardness. Zero’s way of approaching things was direct, almost clinical, but there was something so sincere beneath it. She was trying—trying to connect in her own way, and for Dei Dei, that was more than enough.

"So," Dei Dei said, gesturing to the console, "think you can keep up?"

Zero’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "We’ll see."

The game flickered back to life as Dei Dei inserted a new set of coins. She grinned, selecting a two-player mode for the first time in months. Zero, with her usual calm, selected her character with a quick press of the button, her fingers barely making a sound against the plastic controls.

As the game began, Dei Dei could tell that her sister wasn’t there just to play. Every movement Zero made was precise, as if each step, each button press, was calculated. Dei Dei could sense her sister’s intensity and felt the usual rush of excitement when she found herself with a worthy opponent. Yet, as they played, Zero’s face remained neutral, her eyes scanning the screen with the same focus she would use on a math equation.

"I’ve observed that you play differently than most opponents," Zero remarked quietly, her fingers deftly moving across the controls, avoiding the incoming enemy attacks on-screen.

Dei Dei laughed, already on her third life, barely managing to keep up with Zero’s relentless pace. "Well, I like to play by feel, you know? Dad used to do the same. He’d always say that sometimes you’ve just gotta feel the rhythm, like in dancing."

Zero’s eyes shifted toward her sister, a faint shadow crossing her face. "That’s... difficult to understand. I’m still trying to process this ‘feeling’ approach."

They played in silence for a while, each navigating the fast-paced action on-screen with their own style. Despite Zero’s rigid technique, Dei Dei couldn’t help but notice how easily they fell into sync. Zero might not understand the concept of "feeling" the game, but she was a fast learner, picking up on the rhythm Dei Dei had mentioned, her moves loosening with each passing level. There was something comforting in the steady presence of her sister, even if Zero didn’t show much outward enthusiasm.

"So... why did you come here?" Dei Dei asked during a quick pause as the game loaded to the next level.

Zero’s fingers paused, just for a fraction of a second. She didn’t look at Dei Dei as she spoke, her gaze fixed on the screen. "You seemed... sad. I thought perhaps this might help."

Dei Dei blinked, feeling a tightness in her chest she hadn’t expected. Zero wasn’t one for open displays of emotion, but this simple gesture was enough to make her eyes prick with unexpected tears. She quickly blinked them away, laughing a little to hide her emotions.

"Well, I didn’t think you’d notice," she said, trying to keep her tone light.

Zero’s eyes met hers for a brief moment, her gaze as unreadable as ever. "You’re my sister, Dei Dei. I noticed."

They continued playing, the room filled with the sounds of buttons clicking and arcade music. Slowly, Dei Dei felt some of her sadness ease, replaced by a quiet, comforting warmth. It wasn’t the same as having her father there, but having Zero beside her brought a sense of closeness she hadn’t realized she needed.

"You know," Dei Dei began, leaning closer to her sister, "Dad and I had this tradition. Every time I beat him, he’d treat me to ice cream. Think you’d be up for it if I win?"

Zero gave her a sidelong glance, one eyebrow raising slightly. "That implies you’re going to win."

Dei Dei grinned, determination flashing in her eyes. "Oh, I’ll win. Just you watch!"

Zero’s lips curved in a barely-there smile. "Challenge accepted."

The two sisters played for another hour, each level growing more intense, each victory sweeter. When Dei Dei finally managed to beat Zero on the last level, she cheered, throwing her arms in the air in triumph. Zero simply nodded, a small look of surprise crossing her face as she acknowledged her sister’s win.

"Looks like you owe me that ice cream," Dei Dei said, grinning from ear to ear.

Zero nodded solemnly. "A promise is a promise."

The two of them left the arcade together, stepping into the cool night air. They walked in silence, side by side, the quiet companionship between them comforting in its own way. Dei Dei glanced over at Zero, feeling an unspoken bond settle between them—a bond that might not replace her father’s absence but filled the emptiness just a little bit.

As they reached the ice cream stand, Dei Dei couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. She ordered her favorite flavor, chocolate mint, while Zero selected plain vanilla, her expression unchanging as she took her first bite.

"Thanks for this, Zero," Dei Dei said softly, looking down at her ice cream. "I really... I really needed this."

Zero gave a small nod, her gray eyes reflecting a quiet understanding. "I’ll come with you again. Whenever you need me."

And with that, the two sisters sat together under the stars, savoring their ice cream in silence, each finding comfort in the other’s presence, a bittersweet reminder of the family they’d shared and the bonds they still held onto.

The sounds of arcade machines filled the air, a medley of digital pings and chimes ringing out, competing with the laughter of children and the occasional shout of triumph or groan of frustration. Vedal leaned against the edge of an arcade console, watching Dei Dei as she furiously mashed buttons, her face set with a look of determination he had come to love. She was in her element here, surrounded by the beeps and flashing lights, fingers moving at breakneck speed as she played a game they both knew too well.

She had insisted on seeing him, almost out of the blue, but Vedal hadn’t questioned it. He was just glad she wanted to spend the time together. Lately, he’d been a ghost in the lives of his daughters—too much work, too much distance, too little time to bridge the gaps he had let grow. But Dei Dei had reached out to him, just as she always did, her loyalty a fierce and unwavering constant.

“Dad, I’m going to beat you this time. No question about it!” she declared, glancing at him with a spark of defiance. 

Vedal chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched her attack the console like it was her mortal enemy. “Oh, is that so?” he teased, moving beside her to insert another coin and join the game. “You’ve got some bold claims there, but I don’t plan on going easy on you, Dei Dei.”

She scoffed, barely glancing his way. “If I’m beating you, I don’t want any of your pity.”

The game loaded, and with a final, focused breath, they plunged into it. Dei Dei’s fingers flew across the buttons, and Vedal found himself almost struggling to keep up, a skill he had always admired in her. She played with an intensity that matched his own, her moves a blend of her intuition and experience with her father at her side. 

For the next twenty minutes, the two of them were lost in the battle, exchanging moves, counters, and the occasional good-natured insult. It was one of the few things they had always shared, one of those fleeting moments where he could feel their connection beyond just blood or shared memories.

Finally, in the last seconds of their battle, Dei Dei scored the final hit, her character triumphing as the screen flashed “Winner!” in bright, bold letters.

“Yes!” she shouted, fist-pumping the air. “I finally beat you!”

Vedal let out a soft chuckle, his eyes warm as he looked at her, genuinely impressed. “You sure did. Guess I’ll have to pay up.”

A grin split Dei Dei’s face, and she looked up at him with a mischievous glint. “I’m going for extra scoops this time. And I want sprinkles, too.”

Vedal raised an eyebrow, pretending to be taken aback. “Extra scoops and sprinkles? You’re lucky I’m feeling generous.”

Dei Dei laughed, slipping her arm through his as they made their way to the small ice cream counter on the other side of the arcade. For a moment, Vedal felt a pang of nostalgia, recalling all the times he’d taken her here as a little girl. They would play for hours, challenging each other to game after game until she would finally crash, dozing off on his shoulder as they waited for a taxi to take them home. It felt bittersweet to think that those moments were so far behind them now, the memories clear but distant, like looking through a fogged window.

As they reached the counter, Dei Dei placed her order with absolute certainty, her grin widening when she saw the towering cone of ice cream. They sat down at a booth in the corner, away from the noise of the games, and Vedal watched as she took her first bite, her expression blissful as the sugary coldness hit her taste buds.

“Remember when we used to come here every weekend?” she asked between bites, looking at him with a softness in her gaze. “I’d beat you sometimes, but you’d always insist on a rematch, like you couldn’t stand me winning.”

Vedal chuckled, nodding. “I couldn’t, to be honest. But you’ve come a long way since then. I can’t keep up like I used to.”

Dei Dei smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh, so the great Vedal admits defeat, huh?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he teased, a smirk of his own tugging at his lips.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, and Vedal felt a small sense of relief settle over him. He’d missed this—missed the simplicity of just being with Dei Dei, without any pressures or expectations, without his mistakes and regrets weighing him down. Just them, two people sharing ice cream and memories, like time hadn’t changed a thing.

Dei Dei took another bite, her gaze dropping to the table, her voice softer. “I miss this, you know. I know... I know things have been busy, and I’m not mad or anything. But I miss you, Dad. I wish you’d be around more.”

Vedal’s heart tightened, guilt weaving its way through him. He looked down, searching for the right words, words that wouldn’t sound hollow or empty.

“I’m sorry, Dei Dei,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with regret. “I know I’ve been... absent. And it’s not fair to you or your sisters. You deserve better.”

She shook her head, looking up at him with a faint smile. “You’re here now. That’s what matters. Besides, you always come through when I need you the most.”

They both fell silent, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Vedal could feel it, that ache of knowing he might not be there much longer, the awareness that his days with her were numbered.

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Dei Dei reached across the table and squeezed his hand, her grip warm and reassuring.

“Don’t worry so much, Dad. We’ll always have each other, right?”

Vedal’s heart clenched, and he squeezed her hand back, giving her a faint smile. “Right,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

They spent the rest of the evening at the arcade, playing a few more games and sharing laughter that felt both joyful and bittersweet. Dei Dei’s laughter echoed in his ears, a sound he wished he could hold onto forever.

In the dim light of her bedroom, Dei Dei lay curled beneath her blankets, staring at the ceiling as memories swirled around her, heavy and bittersweet. She could still hear her father’s laughter, feel his presence beside her at the arcade as vividly as if he were there. Her fingers traced small patterns on the edge of her pillow, a futile attempt to hold onto that warmth that seemed to slip further and further away with each passing day.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, feeling a pang of loneliness twist in her chest. She reached for her phone, fingers hovering over her screen. There were countless photos from their times together, snippets of silly moments and blurred images of half-eaten ice cream cones, but tonight, the memories hurt more than they brought comfort.

Closing her eyes, she took a shaky breath, speaking softly into the silence of her room as if he could somehow still hear her. “Hey, Dad… would you have been happier if I just let you win? Just one last time?”

The emptiness in the room answered her, stretching out in the quiet. Her chest tightened, and she pulled the blanket tighter around her, her voice quivering as she let out a sigh. “I miss you so much,” she whispered, her words barely audible, as if any louder might break the fragile peace of the night. “I’d give anything to go back, just one more game… just one more laugh…”

As her eyes fluttered closed, another tear slipped down her cheek. Slowly, she felt herself drift off to sleep, each breath bringing her further into dreams where maybe, just maybe, she’d find him there again, waiting beside a glowing arcade machine, just as she remembered. In her dreams, he would smile, and she’d smile back, for a brief, fleeting moment where everything felt whole once more.

Leily stood in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips, a triumphant grin plastered across her face. The sun streamed in through the windows, illuminating the perfectly arranged cushions on the couch and the meticulously cleaned surfaces around the room. She had just completed every chore in the house, from sweeping the floors to dusting the shelves, and she felt like a rockstar in her own little world.

With a gentle sway, she bounced her baby boy in her arms, the little bundle cooing contentedly. His small form nestled comfortably against her shoulder, and she couldn't help but beam at him. “Look at you, little man,” she said, her voice light and playful. “We did it! The house is spotless, and your mama is on top of the world!”

As she walked through the living room, Leily's confidence radiated. Each step was filled with swagger, as if she were strutting down a runway rather than simply navigating her own home. She made her way to the kitchen, feeling the soft weight of her baby boy against her side. She glanced down at him, his tiny fingers curling around her finger, and her heart swelled.

“Just imagine how proud your grandpa would be,” she murmured, her tone light but the sentiment heavy. A fleeting shadow crossed her mind at the thought of her father. She knew he would have adored this little guy, showering him with affection and wisdom in equal measure. A small part of her wished he were here to see it all—the sleepless nights, the laughter, the love that filled their home.

But Leily would never admit that to anyone. Admitting it would mean acknowledging a vulnerability she wasn’t ready to face. She had always been the confident one, the rock for her siblings, and she intended to keep it that way. Her father’s absence was a gap in her heart, but she pushed it aside, focusing instead on the warmth radiating from the baby in her arms.

“Okay, buddy,” she said, switching gears as she placed him in his crib, careful not to disturb his peaceful slumber. “Time for a little nap while I whip up something delicious for us. We can’t let all this hard work go to waste, right?”

As she moved about the kitchen, gathering ingredients for a quick meal, she couldn’t shake the thought of her father. She imagined him leaning against the kitchen counter, a proud smile on his face as he watched her juggle motherhood with the same confidence she exuded in everything else. The image brought a bittersweet smile to her lips, and she quickly shook her head, focusing instead on the task at hand.

“Enough of that,” she chided herself, determination igniting her spirit once more. “You’ve got this, Leily. Just you and your little prince against the world.” 

She set to work, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the bubbling of pots soothing her. With each slice and stir, she felt her confidence return, fueled by the love for her child and the pride in her accomplishments. She wouldn’t let the weight of her father’s absence drag her down. Instead, she would build a life filled with joy and laughter, one that he would have been proud to see.

As the delicious aroma filled the kitchen, Leily hummed a soft tune, her heart lighter with each passing moment. She knew that she would always carry the memory of her father with her, but she also knew that she had a new legacy to create. And she was ready to embrace it with all the confidence in the world.

In the warm glow of the living room lights, Vedal stood poised with a determined expression, his eyes locked on the television screen as it counted down to the start of the next round of Just Dance. The hardest level was queued up, with a song that was fast-paced, full of twists, spins, and moves he hadn't quite mastered yet. Vedal could feel the nervous excitement bubbling up, and he clenched his fists, prepared to tackle this one head-on.

Leily, arms crossed and wearing a wide grin, watched him from the couch with a sparkle in her eye. She had already breezed through the level, effortlessly hitting every move like a pro. Now it was Vedal’s turn, and she was more than ready to enjoy the show.

The beat dropped, and Vedal was off. He started strong, mimicking the virtual dancer with a surprising level of accuracy. His arms shot out, his feet tapped in time, and for a moment, he felt like he had a chance at winning this round. But as the moves became faster and more intricate, his movements started to falter. The game commanded a rapid-fire series of steps and spins that made Vedal’s head spin and, soon enough, his feet tangled themselves.

“Come on, Dad, keep up!” Leily shouted, her laughter barely contained as she watched him scramble to stay in sync with the beat.

“Oh, I got this!” Vedal replied, waving her off with a quick smile before refocusing. He wasn’t about to let a dance game get the better of him—not when his daughter was watching.

But the screen kept throwing move after move at him, and his energy waned quickly. Vedal’s breaths grew heavier as he tried to mirror the dance, his limbs not nearly as cooperative as they’d been in his younger days. One misstep turned into two, and before he knew it, he stumbled, spinning wildly as he lost his balance and plopped unceremoniously onto the floor.

For a moment, there was silence, and then Leily’s laughter burst through the air like music. She doubled over, clutching her stomach as she cackled uncontrollably. “Dad! You looked like a fish out of water! Are you trying to breakdance, or just break something?”

Vedal groaned, rubbing his knee where he’d landed a little too hard, but he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Hey, these moves were state-of-the-art back in my day! You kids don’t appreciate the classics.”

Leily dropped down next to him, still chuckling as she shook her head. “Sure, sure—state-of-the-art. You’re just ancient, Dad. You’re practically a relic trying to keep up with us modern folk!”

Vedal rolled his eyes in mock offense, placing a hand over his chest as if her words had wounded him. “A relic? I’m just getting started! In fact, I bet I could beat you if I tried that level again.”

Leily smirked, tilting her head with a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, really? Well, maybe after you’ve caught your breath, ‘cause right now, you’re panting like a tired old man.”

Vedal chuckled, giving in and taking a moment to catch his breath. He looked over at Leily, watching the way her eyes sparkled with laughter, her cheeks flushed from joy. For all his efforts to keep up, the best part of the game had been this moment, seeing her so alive and carefree. He knew he couldn’t keep up forever, but for now, he was grateful to be here with her, sharing in the laughter and fun.

“You know,” he said, nudging her shoulder, “I may be an old guy, but I can still teach you a thing or two about dance. Just wait until I show you my classic moves.”

Leily’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Oh no, don’t tell me you’re gonna pull out that embarrassing ‘Dad Dance’ you always do at parties.”

“Oh, you mean the one that never fails to get a round of applause? Absolutely.” Vedal raised an eyebrow, grinning as he slowly started moving his shoulders in an exaggerated, out-of-sync rhythm, just as he did whenever he wanted to make her laugh at family gatherings.

Leily burst into laughter again, shaking her head. “You’re hopeless!”

Vedal threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close for a hug. “Maybe, but I’m your hopeless old man, and you’re stuck with me.”

As the night went on, they didn’t care about scores or levels anymore. They danced, laughed, and teased each other, filling the room with warmth and joy. For Vedal, these were the moments he treasured most, the ones he knew Leily would look back on someday with fondness—long after he was gone.

The living room was dimly lit, except for the glow of the television screen as Just Dance filled the space with pulsing colors. Leily, now older and far more practiced, stood in the middle of the room, headphones securely in her ears. She moved fluidly, without a single glance at the screen—effortlessly exaggerating each move, adding flair to every step and spin. Her eyes were half-lidded with an easy confidence, an unstoppable rhythm coursing through her as she perfected each beat without even trying.

Vedal watched from the doorway, arms crossed, a smile growing as he observed her skill. She hadn’t seen him come in yet, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of pride. She’d come a long way from the days they’d fumbled through beginner levels together. Now, she was a natural. Every move flowed seamlessly, and Vedal could see just how much she’d taken to this game, how it had become second nature to her.

When the level finally ended, she took her headphones out and turned, noticing him for the first time. “Oh, hey, Dad,” she said, catching her breath with a smirk. “Didn’t know you were watching.”

Vedal raised an eyebrow, stepping into the room with a casual shrug. “Couldn’t help myself. You’re incredible at this now,” he admitted, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “It’s like you don’t even need to look at the screen.”

Leily grinned, putting a hand on her hip. “That’s because I don’t. It’s all up here now.” She tapped the side of her head. “Years of practice, and, well… raw talent.” She gave him a teasing look, practically daring him to try and match her.

Vedal chuckled, shaking his head at her confidence. “Raw talent, huh? Well, in that case… think you can handle a partner?”

She gave him a skeptical, almost playful look. “Oh, Dad, you’d fall over in the first second! Are you sure you’re ready to keep up with me?”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Vedal said, arching an eyebrow with a grin. He walked up beside her, cracking his knuckles theatrically as if gearing up for a real showdown. “I may be an old man, but I think I can handle at least a few seconds.”

She snickered, shaking her head as she set up a level—one of the medium ones, though still fast enough to be a challenge. “Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Just don’t pull anything; I don’t want to be calling an ambulance tonight.”

Vedal laughed, lifting his hands in surrender. “Promise, I’ll take it easy.”

The beat started, and Leily jumped right in, seamlessly hitting each move with a boldness and style that only she could pull off. Vedal did his best to follow, but his moves were clumsier, a bit stiffer as he tried to match her energy. He managed to stay on track for a solid ten seconds before getting out of sync, stumbling over a particularly fast step. Leily burst out laughing, watching as he gamely kept trying, stubbornly refusing to sit down even as he fell further and further behind.

“Oh, come on, Dad!” she teased, nudging him lightly between moves. “Pick up the pace—you’re barely keeping up with the intro!”

Vedal huffed, rolling his eyes but grinning through it. “Alright, alright! Maybe I’m just letting you have this one.”

“Oh, sure,” Leily teased, turning in a full spin and striking an exaggerated pose for the camera as the level came to a close. She was still laughing as she struck the final pose, watching Vedal catch his breath beside her.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Vedal said, smiling as he steadied himself. “I’ll stick to cheering from the sidelines.”

Leily laughed, pulling him into a quick hug. “It’s okay, Dad. You’re my best audience.”

Leily sank deeper into the couch, cradling her baby against her chest as the TV played a brightly-colored cartoon. The characters on-screen bounced around in choreographed chaos, but her mind kept drifting, slipping away from the goofy antics and landing somewhere else entirely. She tried to focus on the show, mentally noting the plot points and songs, anything to avoid the persistent ache tugging at her thoughts, reminding her exactly what day it was. 

Her baby cooed softly, shifting in her arms, a small warmth against her as she absentmindedly stroked their tiny hand. The routine usually brought her comfort; after all, there was something deeply grounding about the weight of her little one and the soft sound of their breathing. But tonight, it was harder to shake off the memories sneaking in, the laughter and teasing that felt too close, too raw to ignore. 

“Can’t believe it’s been this long,” she muttered softly, mostly to herself, as if saying it out loud would make it feel more real. She let out a sigh, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. There was something about this anniversary, the passing of years, that made her feel like she should have finally come to terms with it. Like there was a rule somewhere that said she should have moved on by now. But instead, his absence felt like a small, sharp stone pressing into her every so often, hard to ignore for too long. 

Her gaze drifted toward the corner of the room where, years ago, she’d set up her own Just Dance space. It was a small area now crowded with baby things, toys and blankets, but she could still remember him there, gamely following her lead, puffing up his chest and pretending like he could match her every move. A smile ghosted across her lips as the memories played out—his clumsy footwork, the jokes they’d exchanged, his exaggerated grimaces when he’d miss a step. She closed her eyes, letting the flickering memories run just a little longer, indulging them just this once.

A soft noise from her baby brought her back, and she looked down, smiling as the little one reached a tiny hand toward her face. She leaned in, kissing their forehead gently, grounding herself in the moment. But as she sat back, she couldn’t hold back the quiet admission that escaped her. 

“Alright, fine,” she whispered, almost as if he could hear. “Maybe… maybe I do miss you a little.”

She shifted her weight, letting out a reluctant chuckle. It wasn’t something she’d admit to anyone else—certainly not to her sisters, who would never let her live it down. But there, alone in the quiet living room, it felt safe. She felt the words settle, an odd mix of comfort and melancholy wrapping around her like an old, familiar blanket.

Maybe, she thought, just for tonight, it was okay to feel this way.

Cody stood in the center of the room, arms thrown wide as she delivered each line with exaggerated passion, her voice rising and falling in dramatic sweeps. She loved theater—it was her stage, her escape, her way of crafting whole worlds out of thin air. And today, her audience was particularly special.

Vedal lay bundled up on the couch, his face pale and exhausted, with a half-amused smile tugging at his lips as he watched his daughter’s impromptu performance. Beside him, little Dei Dei sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands cupped around her mouth as she added sound effects for every dramatic pause and flourish. Cody had enlisted Dei Dei’s help without hesitation, and though Dei Dei didn’t fully understand the piece, she followed Cody’s cues, adding her own flair to the scene with gleeful squeaks, swooshes, and brrrrr noises.

"Father!" Cody cried, hand clasped dramatically over her heart as she struck a pose. "Do you not see the shadows gathering, the darkness lurking in every corner?" She cast a dramatic look to the side, as though spotting unseen threats. "Even the stars pale in fear at what is to come!”

“Bum-bum-bum!” Dei Dei added with gusto, holding her hands up like she was ringing an invisible bell of doom. Vedal chuckled softly, his shoulders relaxing as he listened to them.

“And yet!” Cody continued, striding over to an imaginary cliff as she threw her arm out grandly, “there is still hope, a light in the distance, faint but undying—”

“Pew-pew-pew!” whispered Dei Dei with a squint, as if firing tiny invisible lasers of hope across the room.

Vedal’s chuckle turned into a quiet laugh, a warm sound that seemed to fill the room. Cody felt her heart lift as she glanced over, catching the rare look of genuine happiness on his face. Despite his fatigue and the dark circles under his eyes, he was smiling.

She knelt beside him, reaching out to gently take his hand, her dramatic tone softening into something more tender. “And that light, my dear father, is you.”

“Oh?” Vedal raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to stifle his smile. “I thought I was more of the shadow in the background, lurking and mysterious.”

Dei Dei gasped, throwing her hands up to her mouth with wide, playful eyes. “Dun dun dunnn!”

Cody couldn’t hold back her laugh, and she gave her father a teasing poke. “Come on, you know that’s not true. You’re… well, you’re the best light I have. You always make things better.”

The room fell into a soft silence, the three of them looking at each other in the warm light of the evening. It was one of those rare moments Cody knew would stay with her forever—the kind that, even as it happened, felt like it was being etched into her memory.

Vedal reached out, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "You’re quite the actress, Cody,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of pride that Cody could feel down to her bones. “Never stop, alright? The world needs a bit of your light too.”

Cody stood in front of the mirror, gripping the edges of the sink as she stared at her reflection. Each day, she could see him a little clearer in herself—the line of her jaw, the set of her brow, the weariness in her eyes. It was strange, seeing so much of him looking back at her, even after all these years. She had promised him she’d always keep shining, that she’d carry his light with her. But as the months wore on, she felt that light fading, slipping further and further from her reach.

She ran a hand through her graying hair, fingers brushing against the lines beginning to carve their way across her face. The cane leaned against the wall beside her, a constant reminder of her own frailty, of the time she didn’t have left. She had lived for her son, poured everything she had into him, but now... now she had to tell him.

The thought of it felt unbearable, like prying open an old wound, deep and raw, one she’d tried so hard to ignore. The mirror blurred as tears stung her eyes, and she took a shuddering breath, gripping the edge of the sink until her knuckles turned white.

“Dad…” she whispered, voice catching in her throat. “Why did you have to leave me with this? I could really use you right now.” Her gaze dropped, breaking from the mirror as though it might soften the truth.

But there was no answer, just the hum of the old house around her. She felt small, like a child again, reaching out for a hand that would never be there. She wanted to believe she could face this alone, wanted to be the strong, unbreakable figure she’d always pretended to be. But the weight of it bore down on her, relentless and unforgiving.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to look back up at the reflection. “I don’t know if I can keep that promise, Dad,” she admitted softly. “I don’t think I have much time left.”

Her heart ached as she thought of her son, his bright, eager face, his laughter that filled the empty spaces in her heart. She had given him everything, but she knew that telling him the truth would take something from him that she couldn’t give back. She wished, of all times, that Vedal was here, that he could somehow take away the weight of this one last burden.

“Dad… if there’s anything left of you with me, I need you now,” she whispered. Her voice was soft, barely a breath, but it echoed in the silence around her, a plea to the shadows for just a sliver of strength.

With one last glance in the mirror, she drew herself up, straightened her shoulders, and let the tears fall. She didn’t know how to say goodbye to him, let alone to her son—but she knew she would try.

In the warmly lit living room, Cody twirled in a makeshift cloak, made from one of Vedal's old coats she’d found lying around. She swept her arms dramatically, casting a mock spell toward the audience of one: her father, who sat cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a worn blanket.

“And lo! The mighty wizard appears, wielding powers that no mortal can comprehend!” Cody boomed, voice filled with theatrical flair, her hands making swirling gestures as if to conjure a mighty storm.

Vedal chuckled, pressing a hand to his chest, playing along. “Ah! The wizard! But beware, young sorceress, for I possess the ancient magic of…” He trailed off, pretending to forget his line, his eyes widening in mock horror. “Of… forgetting!” He held his head and gasped, then collapsed backward dramatically onto the couch.

Cody laughed, rushing to his side and tapping his head with her “staff,” an old broomstick she’d decorated with ribbons. “Fear not, brave knight! I, the great sorceress, can bring you back!”

He opened one eye and smirked. “Can you now? Well, I must admit, it’s nice to have a sorceress of your talent around.” He pushed himself up with some effort, grimacing ever so slightly, as he rubbed his side.

“Dad, you’re supposed to look brave, not old!” Cody teased, nudging him.

Vedal chuckled again, though there was a softness in his eyes, and he leaned back as if to give himself a moment. “You know, I haven’t been feeling all that well, sweetheart,” he admitted with a gentle smile. “I’m not sure how many more dramatic performances my old bones can take.”

The playfulness faded from Cody’s face, replaced by a slight frown of concern. “Dad… you’re not really sick, are you?”

Vedal sighed, reaching out to tousle her hair. “Well, maybe I am getting a little old. But don’t you worry about me. You’ve got enough spirit in you to keep the both of us going for a while yet.” He smiled warmly, but she saw a shadow pass over his face, an acknowledgment of something left unspoken.

Cody sat beside him, her young hand wrapping around his much older one. “Then we’re both getting old, I guess.” She looked up at him with an exaggerated pout, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “But just so you know, I’m not letting you skip any more shows. Sick or not, you’re stuck with me on this stage, okay?”

Vedal laughed, a sound that was both light and tinged with something deeper. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it, Cody,” he replied, squeezing her hand gently. “I’ll be here… every step of the way.” 

And for the rest of that night, they stayed there, caught in a performance of their own, knowing somehow that it was one they’d cherish far more than either of them could yet understand.

Cody sat at the kitchen table, the warm glow of the overhead lights casting a comforting hue over the room. In front of her, her son, a bright-eyed boy with tousled hair, eagerly forked through his spaghetti, twirling the noodles like a little champion. The aroma of the sauce filled the air, a smell that always reminded her of family dinners, laughter, and the comforting presence of her father.

“Mom, this is the best!” he exclaimed, his mouth full of pasta. He looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, and for a moment, the weight of the world slipped away. 

“Thanks, buddy,” she replied with a soft smile, trying to mirror his enthusiasm. “I might have outdone myself this time.” 

She felt a swell of pride, watching him devour the meal she had put so much effort into. He was growing so fast, and each bite seemed to fill her with bittersweet memories of Vedal, of their time together, and of all the meals they’d shared. 

“Are we going to play that game after dinner?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss our game night for anything,” Cody said, her heart fluttering with affection. She loved these moments, the simple joys of being a mom. But as she watched him, a knot began to form in her stomach. 

Taking a deep breath, she glanced up at the ceiling, gathering her courage. She had rehearsed this moment in her head a thousand times, but the reality felt far heavier. The cheerful chatter of the boy across the table faded into the background, and the room suddenly felt too small, too confining. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” she said, her voice wavering slightly as she set her fork down, turning her full attention to him. 

“Sure, Mom! What’s up?” He leaned forward, curiosity etched on his face, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside her.

Cody took another deep breath, forcing herself to focus on her son. “You know how we always talk about family, and how important it is to stick together?”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Yeah, like how we always play games together and watch movies, right?” 

“Exactly,” she said, her heart racing. “And you know how your grandpa… how he’s not here anymore?”

A shadow passed over her son’s face, but he nodded again, slowly. “Yeah, I miss him. But you’re here, Mom!”

Cody smiled, but her heart ached. “I know, sweetheart. And I’m so glad I’m here with you.” She paused, her throat tightening. “But… there’s something I need to tell you.”

He tilted his head, concern creeping into his expression. “Is it bad news? Like when Grandpa got sick?” 

She felt her chest constrict. “Not exactly. But it’s important, and I want you to know the truth.” 

“Okay,” he said, frowning slightly. “I can handle it, Mom.” 

The reassurance in his voice almost shattered her resolve. She reached across the table, taking his small hand in hers. “You’re so brave, just like your grandpa. But I need you to listen to me carefully.” 

He squeezed her hand back, his grip warm and comforting. “I’m listening.” 

Cody looked into his eyes, searching for the right words. “You know how sometimes grown-ups get sick and have to go to the doctor?” 

“Uh-huh,” he replied, still focused on her, the spaghetti forgotten for the moment.

“Well, sometimes, even when we try really hard, we can’t always get better. I’ve been feeling… not so great lately.” 

His brow furrowed with concern. “What do you mean? Are you sick?” 

She nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “Yes, I am. And the doctors… they’re doing everything they can, but they think I might not have a lot of time left.” 

Silence enveloped the room, the words hanging heavy in the air. She watched as realization dawned on his face, his innocent world shattering into fragments. 

“Mom, no! You can’t! You can’t leave me like Grandpa did!” 

The pain in his voice struck her like a physical blow. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I wish things were different.” 

“But we can fix it! You can go to more doctors or take medicine or something!” His voice rose, desperation mingling with confusion. 

“I know it feels unfair,” she said softly, her heart breaking as tears welled in her eyes. “But sometimes… sometimes life doesn’t go the way we hope it will.” 

He pulled his hand away, pushing his chair back with a screech that echoed in the silence. “No! This isn’t happening! I don’t want to hear this!” 

Cody felt her own tears spill over, rolling down her cheeks as she fought to stay composed. “I know, my love. I don’t want to say it either. But I need you to understand that no matter what happens, I will always love you. That will never change.” 

He shook his head vigorously, his little hands balling into fists. “You can’t leave me! You just can’t!” 

The pain in his voice twisted in her heart like a knife. “I wish I could take away your hurt. I wish I could promise you forever, but I can’t.” 

“Why not? You’re supposed to be my mom forever!” His voice cracked, tears spilling down his cheeks as he fought against the harsh reality. 

“I know, I know,” she choked out, rising from her chair and kneeling in front of him, grasping his shoulders gently. “You have to be strong for me. You have to remember all the good times we had, all the love we shared. That’s what I want for you.” 

He collapsed into her arms, sobbing against her shoulder. “I don’t want you to go! I just want us to be together like we always were!” 

She held him tight, feeling his small frame shake with grief, wishing more than anything that she could make everything better. “Me too, baby. I wish more than anything to stay by your side.” 

They stayed there for a long time, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the weight of the world pressing down on them. Cody felt the strength of his little body, the warmth of his spirit, and realized that even though she couldn’t promise him forever, she could give him every ounce of love she had left.

“Promise me something,” she said, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes, wiping the tears from his cheeks. 

“Anything, Mom,” he whispered, sniffling.

“Promise me you’ll remember the good times. Promise me you’ll keep smiling and laughing, even when I’m not there.” 

He nodded, determination flaring in his eyes, though it was mixed with grief. “I promise, Mom. I’ll remember. But I want you to fight and get better!” 

Cody cupped his face, her heart swelling with pride. “I’ll fight with everything I have. But no matter what happens, you are so loved. Don’t ever forget that, okay?” 

“Okay,” he whispered, and in that moment, despite the sadness that threatened to consume them both, there was a flicker of hope, a bond that could never be broken. 

As they held each other close, Cody silently vowed to cherish every moment they had left together, to fill their days with laughter and love, and to be the mother he deserved, even in the face of uncertainty.

Rath sat at the dining table, eyes glinting with amusement as she watched her father’s determined expression. Vedal was struggling through another lesson, fingers twisting into shapes that didn’t quite match the signs she’d been teaching him. His brows were furrowed, lips pressing together in concentration as he glanced between her and his own hands, trying to follow her lead.

Almost there, Dad, she signed slowly, a smile playing on her lips. But you need to hold your fingers here. She tapped her fingers into the correct position, demonstrating again.

Vedal huffed, giving her a look that was half playful, half exasperated. He made the sign as best as he could, earning an approving nod from Rath.

That’s it! she signed enthusiastically, then flashed him a thumbs-up.

Vedal’s face lit up, a wide grin breaking through his previously frustrated expression. He had been practicing for days, and while he was making slow progress, Rath couldn’t help but feel a deep warmth in her chest. It wasn’t easy for him, but he was giving it his all, and for her, that meant everything.

Now , she signed, her hands moving with a mischievous speed as she turned on her computer, let’s see if you’re ready for your real first test.

Vedal’s brows knitted together. “Real test?” he signed, slower but clear enough that she understood.

Yes , Rath signed back, her grin growing wider. She opened a music player and queued up a familiar song. Rap God.

Vedal’s eyes widened, a mixture of amusement and dread flickering in his gaze as the rapid lyrics started spilling from the speakers. Rath settled into her chair, folding her hands and raising her brows with a grin, waiting for him to catch up.

Vedal swallowed, signing slowly, You know this is unfair, right?

She laughed silently, the soundless expression contagious, and she could see Vedal fighting a smile as he struggled to sign the words. To her delight, he kept at it, occasionally glancing over at her for reassurance, even as he fumbled with the speed.

It was clumsy, messy, and endearing all at once. Vedal might not have hit every sign perfectly, but Rath could see the determination on his face. He was taking this seriously, no matter how fast the lyrics went, and she loved him all the more for it.

Rath’s line trailed lazily in the water, the sunlight glinting off the lake's gentle ripples. The air was warm, the sky an endless stretch of blue without a single cloud in sight, and for once, everything felt still. She could see her reflection in the water's surface, distorted by the soft breeze, her green hair catching glimmers of sunlight. She enjoyed these quiet moments, ones that felt untouched by the weight of everything that had happened. Fishing had become a sort of ritual for her—a time to think, to be alone with her memories.

Today, she wasn't sure if she wanted company or not. Her mind drifted to thoughts of her father as it often did on these fishing trips. She could almost see him in the way the water sparkled, in the way the trees rustled with the breeze. She loved him, missed him, despite everything. His absence left a gap, one she often tried to fill with moments like these.

A soft thud interrupted her thoughts. Rath glanced to her side to see Anny, casually sitting down beside her, a small smile tugging at her lips. She wore a loose blue hoodie that contrasted with the bright, sunny day and black shorts that showed off her fox tail swaying gently behind her. She looked comfortable, and a bit out of place, but it wasn’t like Rath minded.

Anny gave her a little wave, signing, Hey there, mind if I join?

Rath shook her head, her lips curving into a soft smile. Nope. Just didn’t expect anyone, she signed back, looking back toward the lake.

Anny watched the water for a moment before shifting her gaze back to Rath. You looked like you were in deep thought.

Rath let out a short laugh, though no sound passed her lips, and shrugged. She didn’t try to deny it. There was a lot on her mind, as always. Guess I was, she signed. Just… thinking of him.

Anny’s expression softened, and she glanced down at her own hands, fiddling with her fingers for a moment before signing back, I get it. It’s been on my mind too.

They sat in a comfortable silence, only the occasional flick of Rath’s fishing line breaking it. Anny watched her for a bit before signing again. You still come out here a lot?

Yeah , Rath signed, her movements slower now, thoughtful. This place reminds me of when he taught me to fish, actually. She looked out at the lake, her green eyes reflecting the memories.

Anny tilted her head, curious. Did he know what he was doing, or was it more trial and error?

Rath snorted, shaking her head with a grin. Mostly error, she signed. He was awful at it, to be honest. But he tried… for me. Her expression softened, eyes distant. That’s one thing I remember most. He wasn’t always perfect, but he tried. She could feel the familiar ache in her chest, the way her father’s memory always lingered.

Anny reached out, giving Rath’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Her eyes said more than words could, and Rath appreciated it. She didn’t need anyone to fill the silence. Sometimes it was enough to just have someone there, sharing in the quiet.

You know, Anny signed, breaking the silence after a while, I think he’d be happy seeing you here like this. You kept the things you loved doing with him.

Rath’s gaze flicked over to Anny, a quiet gratitude in her eyes. She nodded, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she shifted on the rock. I think so too, she signed back, though there was a hint of doubt in her expression. But sometimes… sometimes I feel like I should’ve done more. Maybe if I’d been better, he would’ve been happier.

Anny frowned, shaking her head. Hey, don’t say that. Her signing became more deliberate, and expressive. You did everything you could. We all did. He loved us in his own way. That’s all we needed to know.

Rath looked away, biting her lip as she fought off a wave of emotions. It was hard to believe sometimes. I wish he’d said it more, though, she signed finally, her hands moving slowly as she confessed something she’d rarely admitted out loud—or in silence. “I knew he loved us… I just wish he’d shown it more.”

Anny’s expression softened, and she gave a little nod of understanding. She didn’t try to brush it off or make Rath feel better right away. She just let the words settle between them, her presence steady and calm.

After a long pause, Anny’s hands began to move. We’ll carry those memories, though. The good and the bad. She paused, searching for the right signs, and then added, And hey, you’ve still got all of us. You’re not alone.

Rath felt a warmth spread through her, a feeling of comfort she hadn’t expected. She knew Anny was right. The family she still had—sisters, friends, people who understood. She had a community around her, people who shared her memories, her pain, and her joy.

I know, she signed, her face breaking into a small but genuine smile. And that’s something, isn’t it?

Anny grinned, nodding in agreement, her fox tail flicking with a playful energy. She nudged Rath’s arm, gesturing to the fishing rod. So… you caught anything, or is this just a quiet contemplation session?

Rath chuckled silently, lifting her line to reveal it was still empty. Apparently just contemplating today, she signed, a bit of a smirk crossing her face. Are you gonna show me how it’s done?

Anny raised an eyebrow, looking comically serious as she took up a stance by the water, pretending to consider the best fishing techniques. I’ll have you know , she signed, her face scrunching in mock concentration, I am an expert at this. Just watch and learn.

Rath laughed, the silent joy filling the air between them as Anny cast her line into the water. For a moment, it was just them—two friends, a mother and daughter of sorts, sitting together with the lake stretching out in front of them, the sun high and warm above.

They stayed like that for a long while, each casting their lines and watching the water, sometimes signing to each other about little things, sharing memories, and laughing in silence. The ache of her father’s memory was still there, but it was softened by the presence of someone who understood, who shared the weight of it.

The air was filled with the gentle hum of insects and the occasional chirp of a bird as Vedal adjusted his grip on the fishing rod, his knuckles white as he attempted to look like he knew what he was doing. Rath sat beside him, silently observing his efforts, a barely contained smirk dancing at the corners of her mouth. Anny was there too, reclining on the dock with her hands folded behind her head, tail flicking lazily over the wood as she watched Vedal’s "expert" fishing skills with amusement.

Vedal adjusted his footing, muttering something under his breath as he squinted at the lake. “This is… easy,” he said, glancing at Rath, who raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. 

With a slight shrug, Rath signed, Let’s see it, then.

“I’m serious! I’ve got it this time,” he replied, more to himself than anyone else. Anny let out a small laugh.

Rath just rolled her eyes, settling back and letting her fingers tap out a beat on the dock. The air was calm and cool, but there was a tinge of excitement, the kind that lingered when something was bound to go hilariously wrong. Rath always loved watching her father try things like this. It reminded her of the good side of him—earnest and stubborn, refusing to give up no matter how absurd the situation.

With exaggerated focus, Vedal cast his line into the water, his arms trembling slightly as he tried to steady the rod. He straightened, looking pleased with himself, and turned to Rath and Anny, his smile full of forced confidence. Rath raised her fingers to sign a mock applause, and Anny joined in, clapping lightly with a grin.

“Just you wait,” Vedal said, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. “I can feel it—there’s a big one out there today.”

Rath grinned, crossing her arms and letting her eyes drift out over the water, where the line danced lightly on the surface. She gave Anny a sidelong glance, signing quickly, Bet it’s another branch.

Anny stifled a laugh, her tail flicking as she replied, “Or a boot.”

But before Rath could respond, Vedal’s line suddenly dipped—fast. His eyes widened as he instinctively gripped the rod, yanking it back, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. For a split second, it seemed as if he might actually have something. Rath’s eyes widened, her smirk faltering as she leaned forward, genuinely curious. Even Anny sat up, her amusement replaced with intrigue.

And then the line jerked with a force that could only mean one thing: something big.

Vedal’s thin arms tensed, muscles straining as he tried to keep his footing. “Oh, I… I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of excitement and panic.

Anny snorted, calling out, “Hold on tight, fisherman! Looks like it’s gonna be a fight!”

Rath’s grin returned full force as she watched her father grapple with the line, struggling to reel it in. But the fish—or whatever it was—had other ideas. The rod lurched forward again, and Vedal stumbled, his feet slipping dangerously close to the edge of the dock. Rath felt a flicker of worry, but it was overshadowed by the hilarity of watching her father wrestle with the invisible beast in the lake.

Dad, careful! Rath signed frantically, a silent laugh in her eyes.

But Vedal barely had a chance to respond before the fish gave one last violent tug, yanking him off balance entirely. In a split second, his hands lost their grip on the rod, and with a loud, undignified yelp, Vedal was airborne, his arms flailing as he splashed into the lake.

Rath’s eyes widened, a burst of laughter erupting silently from her as she clutched her sides. Anny, meanwhile, was practically rolling on the dock, laughing so hard she had to cover her mouth to keep from falling in herself. Rath could feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes from laughing so hard, and she quickly brushed them away, her gaze shifting to the water where Vedal was now spluttering and struggling to the surface.

His head popped up, hair plastered to his forehead as he wiped water from his face, his expression somewhere between embarrassed and exasperated. “That… was not… part of the plan!” he said, coughing as he treaded water.

Anny leaned over, grinning as she signed, Looks like the fish got you instead.

Rath, still laughing silently, signed, Nice catch, Dad!

Vedal shot them both a look that might have been stern if he hadn’t been trying to suppress a laugh himself. With a determined glint in his eye, he swam back to the dock, grabbing onto the wooden planks and hoisting himself up, water dripping from his clothes as he collapsed onto the dock beside them.

“Maybe next time,” Anny said, patting his shoulder as she tried to keep a straight face.

“Maybe,” Vedal replied, chuckling softly as he caught his breath. He glanced at Rath, his usual seriousness softened by a rare, genuine smile. “You enjoyed that a little too much, didn’t you?”

Rath nodded, her grin mischievous as she signed, A lot, actually

Vedal shook his head, dripping wet but clearly in good spirits as he settled himself next to Rath and Anny. There was something about his presence in these moments—he seemed younger, almost like the father Rath remembered from years before, the one who would do silly things and laugh along with her, even if he wasn’t great at them.

He glanced over at her, his expression turning thoughtful. “You know,” he said, still slightly out of breath, “I may be terrible at fishing… but it’s worth it if it means spending time with you two.”

Rath felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, a soft smile forming on her lips. For a moment, the world felt perfect—just the three of them, sharing in the laughter and the sunshine, her father’s arm slung over her shoulder, and Anny’s tail swishing contentedly behind her.

Vedal held his hands out, palms up as if surrendering, and signed slowly, Maybe next time, you can teach me.

Rath laughed silently, reaching out and grasping his wet hands, her fingers moving in gentle, reassuring signs. Maybe, she signed, her eyes bright with the joy of the moment.

Veiley moved about the kitchen with a calm precision, her hands expertly flipping the sizzling steak in the pan as she glanced over at her little sister. Lily, seated cross-legged on the floor, had her headphones on, completely immersed in the action on the screen. Her eyes were sharp, fingers a blur on the controller as she fought her way through a mob of demons in Doom Eternal, seemingly unfazed by the near-impossible difficulty level.

Veiley couldn’t help but smile at the contrast. Here she was, trying to make something wholesome and simple for dinner, while Lily was orchestrating carnage with surgical precision, barely blinking as she maneuvered through the game. She gave the steak a final turn before plating it with a side of roasted vegetables. It was nothing fancy, but she’d added just the right amount of seasoning and care, hoping her sister would enjoy it.

“Lily,” she called softly, sliding the plate onto the small kitchen table. She kept her voice gentle, not wanting to startle her. “Dinner’s ready.”

Lily continued playing, her focus unbroken. Veiley watched for a second, impressed as her sister defeated a boss that would’ve made most players crumble. But as much as she admired Lily’s skills, she knew that getting her to break away from the game and eat would require a little more effort.

Veiley walked over and knelt beside her, placing a gentle hand on Lily’s shoulder. “Hey, Doom Slayer,” she teased lightly, “even the toughest of warriors need a break to refuel.”

Lily’s shoulders tensed briefly, and she glanced up at her sister with wide, almost startled eyes, as though she’d forgotten there was anyone else in the room. She blinked, her cheeks pinkening slightly as she set her controller down and took off her headphones. For a moment, her lips parted as if she was going to say something, but she hesitated, giving Veiley a small, grateful nod instead.

They sat down together, Veiley watching Lily with a warm, gentle gaze as she started eating. For Lily, eating was almost as quiet an activity as anything else; she chewed thoughtfully, eyes often drifting back to the game screen as if part of her was still there.

“You’re really good at that, you know,” Veiley said softly. “I think you could probably beat anyone if they tried to challenge you.”

Lily’s face lit up just slightly, a faint smile curling at the corners of her mouth as she continued to eat, but she didn’t say anything. The two sisters sat in a companionable silence, and while no words were exchanged, there was a certain comfort in the quiet.

Veiley lingered by the couch, her eyes softened with a touch of worry as she watched Lily’s breathing slow. She brushed a stray hair from Lily’s forehead, feeling that pang of guilt resurface. Lily’s ankle, wrapped carefully but still visibly bruised, served as a quiet reminder of that small, unintentional mistake.

With a sigh, Veiley settled onto the floor beside the couch, her thoughts racing. She reached out and lightly touched Lily’s ankle, ensuring the ice pack was in place. Despite her usual strong demeanor, moments like these made her feel unexpectedly vulnerable. It wasn’t like Lily to complain—she hardly spoke at all, even when something hurt—but Veiley knew this was her own responsibility to bear.

“Hey, Lil,” she whispered, almost as if talking would disturb her. “I know you’re tough, but… I’m sorry about the beans. That was my bad.”

Lily’s closed eyes gave nothing away, but her breathing hitched for a moment, a small shift in her normally serene composure. Veiley smiled slightly, resting her head against the side of the couch.

Veiley leaned back, stretching her legs out as she settled in, knowing Lily might not respond but somehow feeling that talking might still reach her. She glanced at her sister's peaceful, almost sleepy expression and sighed. 

"You know," she began, her voice gentle, "life's weird sometimes. I mean, look at us." She chuckled softly, adjusting the ice pack on Lily’s ankle. "You, absolutely crushing it on Doom Eternal like it’s nothing, and me? Well, I’m here talking to myself." 

Lily’s eyelids fluttered just slightly, a tiny acknowledgment that she was listening.

Veiley continued, her tone soft but thoughtful. "I never really understood why you love that game so much. You’re so quiet, and yet you’re out here, demolishing demons left and right." She paused, laughing softly. "Maybe that’s why we’re such a good pair. You’re this quiet storm, and I’m… just trying to keep the roof on."

The silence stretched between them comfortably. Veiley reached out and traced the fringe on the throw pillow, her mind wandering. "You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about… Dad lately. About everything he left behind. Some days, I think he was right there next to me, cheering me on. Other days?" Her voice softened. "Other days, it just feels empty."

Lily’s gaze shifted slightly, a sign that she was absorbing her sister’s words in her own quiet way. Veiley took a deep breath, continuing, "I guess that's part of life, though, isn’t it? This whole mix of great days, awful ones, and the ones that feel like… I don’t know, like background music to something bigger we’re just not hearing yet."

For a moment, Veiley glanced at her sister, wondering if she might say something. But Lily’s lips remained a thin line, her eyes still closed, listening without the need to fill the silence. 

"Anyway," Veiley sighed, managing a soft smile. "Just wanted to let you know that, bruised ankle and all, you’re still the strongest person I know, Lil." She hesitated. "And hey… anytime you wanna talk, you know, I’m here. I mean, not that I’m expecting a response, but… just in case."

Lily’s mouth curved in the slightest hint of a smile, barely noticeable but just enough for Veiley to see. Veiley grinned, feeling that small bit of connection like a warm pulse between them.

Veiley leaned her head back, closing her eyes. “You know, sometimes I wish I could just sit in silence like you do. Just let everything be quiet, even in my head. You make it look so easy.”

Lily shifted her position, curling slightly towards Veiley. And in that quiet, shared space, with no words exchanged, they both found something they didn’t realize they’d been looking for—an understanding that didn’t need sound, an acceptance that came from just being together.

The room was still, wrapped in a calmness that lingered between the two sisters, the soft sounds of the clock ticking on the wall the only interruption. Veiley’s head was leaned back against the couch, her eyes half-closed, when a small, almost fragile voice broke through the silence.

“It’s… it’s the anniversary.”

Veiley’s eyes opened instantly, blinking in disbelief as she looked at Lily, whose lips had moved just the slightest bit, her quiet voice still ringing in the air like an echo.

“Of… his death,” Lily added, her gaze cast down, but there was a noticeable strain in her eyes, as if voicing these words brought an ache to the surface she’d kept buried.

Veiley sat up, the initial surprise fading into something warmer, softer. It was rare for Lily to say much at all, and here she was, speaking up in a way that felt like an opening to her private world. Veiley leaned in slightly, her voice gentle, as though speaking any louder would shatter the delicate moment.

“Yeah… it is.” She nodded, a pang of sadness settling in her chest. “I… honestly didn’t know if I should bring it up, or if it’d just be easier for us to go on, you know?”

Lily gave a small nod, her hand still resting over her bruised ankle, fingers absently tracing the edge of the ice pack Veiley had wrapped earlier. Her voice came out again, soft and careful, like she was testing each word before releasing it. “It’s… strange. Knowing he’s not here. It… feels quieter.”

A faint, melancholy smile touched Veiley’s lips. “Yeah. It does feel quieter without him around.” She glanced toward the ceiling, as though seeking him out somewhere above. “But in some ways… I feel like he’s still here. Not in a literal way, of course, but you know… he’s in all the things we do, the stuff he taught us.”

Lily’s gaze remained downward, focused but distant, as if she were seeing something in her mind’s eye rather than the room around her. “I… still remember… how he used to play games with us. Or, at least… with everyone else. I used to just… watch.”

Veiley’s hand found its way to Lily’s shoulder, resting there gently. “I remember too. I think he knew you were watching him, even if he couldn’t always sit down and play with you.”

Lily’s small fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the ice pack, her face turned toward Veiley with a hint of a frown. “Sometimes I thought… he didn’t even notice me,” she whispered, the words barely audible. There was a raw honesty in her voice, a confession that seemed like it had been long held back.

Veiley gave a deep, understanding nod, her own memories swirling to the forefront. “I get that, Lil. I think we all felt that sometimes. But I think, in his own way, he noticed you more than you think. He was just… he was always running around, wasn’t he?”

Lily nodded again, her expression quiet but pensive, as though she were sifting through each memory to find where she could fit these words. “I… I wish I’d told him that I wanted him around more.”

Veiley squeezed her shoulder, her heart aching at the vulnerable admission. “I think he knew. I think… in a way, he always knew we all wanted more of him, but he was just spread so thin.” She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “It’s not always easy to understand why people are the way they are until they’re gone.”

A stillness settled over them again, but this time, it was layered with memories and unspoken grief, the weight of shared loss that words could only barely begin to capture. The soft patter of rain began to tap against the window, and Veiley let herself sit in the quiet with Lily, her hand warm on her sister’s shoulder.

After a long silence, Lily’s voice rose up once more, softer than before but laced with something akin to resolve. “I… miss him.” The words trembled, her normally quiet voice breaking under the weight of years of bottled-up emotion. “I miss… everything we didn’t do.”

Veiley’s own throat tightened, the words resonating deep within her. “Me too, Lil. Me too.” She felt a tear slip down her cheek, but she made no move to hide it, knowing that in this moment, her own sadness was a mirror to her sister’s.

Lily shifted, leaning her head slightly toward Veiley, the vulnerability in her posture a testament to how deeply her father’s absence had touched her, even in her quiet way. And for a moment, they simply sat together in the warm silence, their shared pain a bridge between them.

After a few moments, Veiley murmured softly, “You know, we can still talk to him, even if he’s not here.”

Lily looked at her, confusion flickering in her eyes. “How?”

Veiley smiled, brushing a lock of hair from her sister’s face. “In our own way. You can say whatever you want to him, and maybe… just maybe, he’ll hear you.”

Lily’s gaze dropped again, but her face softened, as though the idea offered a small bit of comfort. The quiet stretched on, and Veiley knew better than to press her, simply holding the silence and waiting. Finally, Lily spoke, her voice so soft that it almost melted into the rain pattering outside.

“I… I just wanted him to know… that I’m okay. And… that I love him.”

Veiley smiled, squeezing her sister’s shoulder gently. “He would love to hear that, Lil. I know he would.”

Lily glanced toward the window, her fingers playing idly with the fabric of the couch as if grounding herself in the present moment. There was a distant look in her eyes, but for the first time in a long while, it seemed less pained, as though some unspoken weight had finally begun to lift.

Veiley leaned back, watching her sister with quiet pride. She knew Lily’s words had been few, but they were precious, each one a testament to the connection they still held with their father.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, the quiet in the room felt less lonely. It was a peaceful silence, filled with memories, love, and the gentle sense that, somehow, he was still there with them, woven into the fabric of their lives in ways that would never fade.

The dim light of the game store flickered, casting a warm glow over the colorful displays that lined the shelves, filled with vibrant covers of games waiting to be discovered. The air buzzed with the sounds of excitement and chatter as families browsed the latest titles, their laughter mingling with the electronic jingles that punctuated the atmosphere. In the midst of it all stood Vedal, tall and sturdy, with a little figure perched atop his shoulders—Lily, her bright pink hair shimmering in the store's lights.

“Higher, Dad! I want to see the ones on the top shelf!” Lily exclaimed, her small hands gripping Vedal's head for balance, giggles bubbling forth as he dutifully lifted her higher. The world from up there was a thrilling panorama of games and gadgets, the colorful covers a delightful smorgasbord of potential adventures.

Vedal chuckled, his deep voice vibrating through Lily’s legs. “Alright, but only because you promised not to pull my hair!” He could feel the weight of her anticipation, her tiny frame bouncing with excitement as she peered down at the shelves that loomed below. 

“I promise! Ooh, look! There’s that new racing game we saw on TV!” she pointed, her voice high and animated as she spotted a cover showcasing fast cars racing against a stunning sunset backdrop. “Can we get that one?”

Vedal tilted his head back slightly, making eye contact with her. “You’re right, that one does look fun. But remember what we talked about—let’s pick just one for now. We can always come back for more.”

Lily nodded enthusiastically, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Okay! But only if we can play it together tonight!” 

“Deal!” Vedal grinned, the warmth in his chest growing at the thought of sharing another adventure with his daughter. He carefully lowered her down, and she hopped off his shoulders, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. 

“Wait!” she squeaked, her eyes widening in realization. “We have to get snacks too! It’s not a gaming night without snacks!”

Vedal laughed, ruffling her hair affectionately. “You’re absolutely right. A proper gaming night needs popcorn and drinks. Let’s make our way to the snack aisle first.” He held out his hand, and she took it, her small fingers wrapping around his as they navigated through the store.

As they walked, they passed aisles filled with games that sparked Lily’s imagination. She paused at each one, pointing out interesting covers or animatedly describing the gameplay she had seen in trailers. Vedal listened intently, amazed by her enthusiasm. 

“Look, Dad! This one is about knights and dragons! Can we get this one next time?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.

“I promise we’ll add it to the list,” Vedal replied, making a mental note. “You’re becoming quite the gamer, aren’t you?”

“Of course! You taught me everything I know!” she beamed, her confidence radiating. 

They reached the snack aisle, and Lily’s eyes lit up at the sight of her favorites—colorful bags of chips, rows of candy, and boxes of popcorn. “Can we get the cheesy popcorn? And some gummy bears?” she requested, her voice filled with excitement as she dashed to the shelves.

Vedal chuckled, shaking his head but secretly delighted by her enthusiasm. “You’ve got a deal. But remember, we can’t eat all of it in one night. We have to save some for the next adventure.”

With snacks in hand, they made their way to the checkout counter. As Vedal placed the items on the belt, he looked down at Lily, whose cheeks were still flushed from their earlier adventure. “You know, Lily, I love spending these moments with you. It makes me happy to see you so excited.”

Her face softened, and she smiled shyly, glancing up at him. “Me too, Dad. You’re the best!”

As they left the store, bags in hand, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the parking lot. Vedal watched as Lily bounded ahead, her energy infectious. He felt a surge of love and gratitude swell within him—these were the moments he cherished the most.

“Race you to the car!” she called back, already sprinting toward their vehicle.

“Hey, no fair!” Vedal laughed, breaking into a jog after her. “You’re too quick!”

Lily’s laughter echoed through the lot, and as Vedal reached the car, he scooped her up into his arms, twirling her around before setting her down. “Alright, champ, let’s get home and start our adventure!”

As they settled in the car, the snacks spread out on the console between them, Vedal caught a glimpse of Lily’s eager face, and he couldn’t help but smile. “What should we play first?”

Her eyes sparkled with ideas, her small hands clapping together in delight. “How about the racing game? We can see who’s the fastest!”

“Sounds perfect! But remember, I’m going to win this time!” Vedal teased, glancing at her with a playful smirk.

Lily gasped, her eyes wide. “Not if I can help it! I’ve been practicing!”

As they drove home, their playful banter filled the air, and Vedal couldn’t help but feel a sense of completeness wash over him. No matter what challenges lay ahead, these moments, filled with laughter and love, were treasures that would stay with him forever. 

Once home, they hurried to set up their gaming station, eager to dive into the digital world together. Vedal took a moment to prepare the console while Lily carefully arranged the snacks, her excitement palpable. 

“Ready?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Always!” she replied, and they both settled into their seats, controllers in hand. 

As the game loaded, Vedal felt a warmth in his heart, knowing that these simple moments were the ones he would cherish the most. In that small living room, with laughter echoing off the walls, they embarked on countless virtual adventures, racing through landscapes and battling enemies side by side.

“Here we go!” Lily shouted as the game began, her laughter and enthusiasm intertwining with the joyful chaos of their shared experiences. Vedal smiled, feeling truly content, knowing that in moments like these, he was exactly where he was meant to be.

The room was dimly lit, a soft glow coming from the small nightstand lamp that cast gentle shadows across the walls. Lily was cocooned beneath an impressive stack of five blankets, each one slightly different in color and texture, forming a fortress against the outside world. Veiley lay right beside her, propped up on one elbow, watching over her little sister with a protective gaze.

It was a comfort they both needed, especially on a night like this, when memories of their father weighed heavily in the air. The anniversary of Vedal’s death had settled in like an unwelcome guest, and Veiley could feel it in the quiet tension that surrounded them. She knew how much Lily missed their father, how deeply the loss affected her shy little sister, whose words were often lost in the shadows of her own thoughts.

“Hey, Lily,” Veiley said softly, breaking the silence. “Do you want to talk about anything? Maybe something fun we can do tomorrow?” 

There was a moment of stillness before Lily turned her head slightly, just enough for her pink hair to spill across the pillow. Her big, round pink eyes peeked out from under the covers, filled with a mixture of comfort and hesitation. “Maybe…?” came the almost inaudible reply, her voice barely above a whisper.

Veiley’s heart swelled with affection. “We could bake something together. What do you think? Brownies, maybe? Just like the ones we made with Dad?” 

Lily nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. The idea seemed to spark a flicker of enthusiasm, but the words remained trapped behind her lips. Veiley knew that even the simplest conversations could feel monumental for Lily, whose shyness often silenced her. 

“Or we could play that new game you’ve been wanting to try,” Veiley suggested, leaning closer, eager to draw her sister out. “The one with the superheroes? I heard it has a co-op mode! We could team up!”

A small smile crept onto Lily’s face at the mention of the game, her eyes brightening. But still, she said nothing, and the silence stretched between them again, heavy yet comfortable. Veiley’s fingers brushed gently against Lily’s arm, offering a silent reassurance. 

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” Veiley offered, trying to fill the quiet with warmth. “It could be about an adventure we had with Dad, or maybe a made-up one where we save the world together!”

Lily shifted slightly, pushing the blankets down just enough to show her face fully. “With… superheroes?” she asked, her voice still soft but more animated.

“Of course! You and me, side by side, fighting off villains and saving the day. Just like he used to say we could do,” Veiley replied, feeling the nostalgia wash over her. “Remember how he always called us his dynamic duo?”

Lily giggled, the sound soft and sweet, like a gentle melody. “Dynamic duo… and we always won!”

“Yes! We always won!” Veiley laughed lightly, loving how just a few words could brighten her sister's demeanor. “We’d use our secret powers, and Dad would cheer us on from the sidelines.” 

Veiley watched as Lily’s expression shifted, a mix of longing and happiness crossing her features. It was a delicate balance, the memories of their father that brought both joy and sorrow. Veiley wanted to shield Lily from the pain but knew that sometimes they needed to face it together. 

“Do you remember that time we made him dress up as a superhero?” Veiley continued, her tone playful. “He wore that ridiculous cape you made out of an old bed sheet! I thought he would never stop laughing!”

Lily’s eyes sparkled with mirth as she pictured the scene, and her laughter bubbled forth again, this time a little louder. “He was… silly!” she exclaimed, a rare burst of emotion shining through the blanket fortress. 

Veiley’s heart soared. “He really was. And he loved being silly with you. You brought out the best in him.” 

For a moment, the memories floated in the air between them like soft feathers. It was an unspoken agreement that they both felt—acknowledging the sadness but also the love that remained. 

“Do you think… he’s proud of us?” Lily asked suddenly, her voice softening, as if she were afraid to speak the thought aloud. 

Veiley’s smile softened, her heart aching for the little girl before her. “I know he is, Lily. He’s always proud of you. You’re brave, and you’re strong, just like him. Even when things get tough, you carry that strength with you.”

Lily nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “I try… sometimes it’s hard.” 

Veiley’s heart ached at that admission, but she understood. “It’s okay to feel that way. You’re allowed to miss him, to feel sad. But I’m here for you. We can face it together, remember?” 

Lily tucked her chin deeper into the blankets, her expression shifting as she contemplated her sister's words. “I… I wish he was here.”

“I do too, sweetheart,” Veiley said softly. “But we can keep his memory alive. Every time we play games, every time we bake brownies, he’s right there with us in our hearts.” 

As the warmth of their shared memories enveloped them, Veiley felt a sense of peace settle in the room. They lay there together, wrapped in their thoughts, and for the first time that evening, Lily didn’t seem so lost in her sadness. Instead, she appeared more connected to the love that surrounded her, to the bond they shared.

“Okay,” Lily whispered finally, her voice small but steady. “Can we… can we bake brownies tomorrow?”

“Absolutely! And I’ll make sure to add a little extra chocolate just for you,” Veiley promised, grinning as Lily giggled again. 

“Yay! Brownies!” Lily exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over once more.

Veiley leaned over to kiss the top of her sister’s head, grateful for the light that flickered back into her eyes. “Goodnight, Lily. I love you.”

“Love you too, Veiley,” Lily replied, her voice sleepier now, her eyes growing heavy as the warmth of the blankets enveloped her.

As Veiley settled back down beside her, she felt a sense of fulfillment, knowing that, while they would always miss Vedal, they could still find joy in each other and carry his spirit with them. The night continued to unfold, but for now, there was peace in the room, a sanctuary from the outside world where memories could be cherished and new ones could be created, one small moment at a time.

Evil sat on her bed, the dim light of the room casting long shadows across the walls. The quiet was almost oppressive, a heavy stillness that hung in the air like a thick fog. She had spent countless hours staring at the same four walls, her mind swirling with memories of a time when everything felt simpler, when her father had been a constant source of strength and love in her life. But that had been years ago—years filled with turmoil and separation.

As she pondered how long it had been since she last saw Vedal, a rush of longing washed over her. It felt surreal, thinking back to the little girl who had once looked up to him with admiration. The father who had taught her about the world, who had cheered for her every achievement, no matter how small. But that father felt like a distant memory now, buried under layers of hurt and abandonment.

Evil picked up a blank piece of paper from her desk, the smooth surface beckoning her to write. She didn’t know where to start. It had been years since she had last spoken to him—years since she had walked away from everything, including the family she had loved fiercely. She felt like a ghost, haunting the edges of her own life.

With a deep breath, she put pen to paper, the scratch of ink breaking the silence in her room. She hesitated, unsure of what to say. The words felt heavy in her mind, but the urge to reach out to her father was undeniable. She wanted him to know that she still thought of him, that she still cared, despite everything that had happened.

“Visit Us,” she finally wrote, her handwriting bold and clear. It was a simple message, yet it carried the weight of all her unspoken feelings. She folded the paper carefully, her heart racing as she imagined the possibility of him receiving it. Would he understand? Would he even care after all this time?

As she placed the letter into an envelope, she couldn’t shake the fear that it might never reach him. What if he had moved on? What if he had changed so much that he no longer recognized the daughter who had once adored him? The thought made her stomach twist in knots, but she pushed the fear aside. She had to try.

She wrote the address on the front, her heart pounding as she sealed the envelope. The act felt monumental, a step into the unknown, but one that she needed to take. This letter was her lifeline, a bridge connecting her to a past she had tried so hard to leave behind. 

Evil stood up and walked over to her window, staring out at the vast expanse of night sky. The stars twinkled like distant promises, and she felt a flicker of hope ignite within her. Maybe he would read her letter. Maybe he would remember the love they had shared as a family before everything had changed.

With a deep breath, she made her way to the door, the envelope clutched tightly in her hand. She could feel the weight of her decision pressing down on her, but it was a weight she was willing to bear. It was time to reach out, time to confront the past, even if it scared her. 

As she stepped out of her room, she felt a strange mix of anticipation and dread. The world outside was quiet, but in her heart, she felt a storm brewing—one of hope, fear, and the longing for reconnection. She was ready to take that step, ready to embrace whatever came next, and she whispered a silent wish as she headed toward the post office.

“Please let him get this.” 

With that thought echoing in her mind, Evil pushed open the door, stepping out into the night with renewed determination. She would not let fear dictate her actions any longer. It was time to find her father, to see if the love that once held them together could still bind them, even after all these years.

Evil stood in the kitchen, a gentle hum escaping her lips as she stirred a pot of simmering vegetables on the stove. The aroma of garlic and herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the soft sounds of her one-year-old son, Milo, exploring the world around him. He was a curious little creature, wide-eyed and full of wonder, his chubby hands reaching for anything within his grasp. 

Milo was just beginning to take his first tentative steps, wobbling around the small living room with a mixture of determination and uncertainty. Evil watched him from the corner of her eye, her heart swelling with pride. It was a beautiful sight, seeing him grow and discover new things each day. The way he would stumble and giggle, a toothy grin lighting up his face, was enough to melt away any stress from her day. 

“Careful now, sweetie,” she called out, her voice soft but firm. Milo turned to her, his big blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He laughed, a high-pitched sound that filled the room with warmth. Evil couldn't help but chuckle in return, her heart feeling lighter at the sound. 

She turned her attention back to the stove, adjusting the heat as she tossed in a handful of spinach. Cooking had become one of her favorite ways to unwind, a meditative process that allowed her to focus on nurturing not just herself but her son as well. As she sautéed the greens, she thought back to her own childhood, memories of her father teaching her how to cook flooding her mind. She could almost hear his voice guiding her, offering tips and tricks that had stuck with her over the years.

The nostalgia made her smile bittersweet. It was moments like these that reminded her how much she missed him. Yet, as she glanced at Milo, she realized that she had a chance to create new memories, to shape a future filled with love and laughter. She would do everything in her power to be the mother her father had been to her, to raise Milo in a home filled with warmth and kindness.

Milo wobbled closer, his little legs moving clumsily as he approached her. He reached out for her, his tiny hands grasping the edge of the counter as he steadied himself. “Mama!” he squeaked, his voice a delightful mixture of curiosity and joy. Evil’s heart melted at the sound.

“Hey there, buddy,” she said, kneeling down to his level. She brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering on his soft skin. “What are you up to?”

He giggled, letting go of the counter to take a shaky step toward her, his balance faltering as he teetered on the edge of falling. Evil's heart raced, but before she could react, he caught himself again, this time with a triumphant smile. 

“See? I did it!” Milo exclaimed, his little voice full of pride. 

“You sure did!” she cheered, clapping her hands together. “I knew you could!” 

Milo beamed, and Evil felt a swell of happiness wash over her. It was moments like this that filled her heart with purpose. She wanted to be there for every step he took, both literally and figuratively. 

As she returned to the stove, stirring the pot with care, she felt Milo's small hands tugging at her apron. She turned to find him looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes. 

“What is it, Milo?” she asked, bending down again. 

“Up!” he demanded, his arms reaching skyward, the universal sign for wanting to be picked up. Evil chuckled, her heart swelling with affection. 

“Alright, little man, let’s see what we can do,” she said, scooping him up into her arms. He fit snugly against her, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of fulfillment wash over her. 

Evil carried him over to the counter, letting him see what she was cooking. “Look, we’re making a yummy vegetable stir-fry. Do you want to help?”

“Help!” he echoed, his voice filled with excitement. 

“Okay, how about you hold this spoon for me?” she said, handing him a wooden spoon that was too large for his little hands but would keep him occupied. 

Milo grinned, holding the spoon proudly as she stirred the pot. “Mama cook!” he exclaimed, a joyful bounce in his voice. 

“Yes, Mama cooks, and Milo helps!” she replied, her heart dancing at the thought of their little kitchen adventure. 

They worked together in a rhythm that felt natural, Evil guiding him as he pretended to stir with all his might. She kept an eye on the stove while also cherishing the moment they shared, the bond strengthening with each passing second. It was chaotic and messy, but it was theirs. 

“Look, buddy,” she said, pointing to the pot, “it’s almost ready. What do you think we should have with it? Rice? Noodles?” 

“Nu-nu!” Milo said enthusiastically, and Evil couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Okay, noodles it is!” she replied, glancing at the clock. She would need to start boiling water soon. “Let’s get those going.” 

As she moved to grab a pot for the noodles, she felt Milo’s weight shift in her arms. He was trying to lean forward to watch everything, his curiosity driving him to explore further. 

“Whoa there, little one! We don’t want to fall, do we?” Evil said, readjusting her hold on him to keep him secure. “Let’s sit you down for a second, okay?” 

She gently lowered him back to the ground, and he immediately started wobbling again, a determined look on his face as he made his way back to the living room. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him venture out, his little feet pattering against the floor. 

Once the water was boiling, she added the noodles, stirring them gently. The sound of water bubbling was comforting, and she let herself drift for a moment, thinking about how far she had come. 

It hadn’t been easy. The memories of her father still lingered, shadows of laughter and love mixed with the pain of loss. She often wondered how he would have felt seeing her as a mother. Would he have been proud? Would he have laughed with her and offered advice? 

Shaking the thoughts away, Evil focused on the present, on Milo and the life they were building together. She was determined to make it a good one, a life full of love, laughter, and perhaps a bit of chaos, too. 

“Okay, noodles are cooking!” she called out, her voice bright and cheerful. “What should we do while we wait?” 

Milo turned around, his eyes bright and wide. “Play!” he said, his little hands clapping together. 

“Alright then, let’s play!” Evil agreed, her heart soaring. She knelt down to his level, reaching out to him. “What do you want to play?” 

“Blocks!” he shouted, pointing to a pile of colorful building blocks in the corner of the room. 

“Blocks it is!” she said, guiding him over to the blocks. They both knelt on the floor, and Evil pulled the blocks closer, letting Milo take the lead as he began stacking them clumsily. 

“Higher!” he urged, his tiny fingers fumbling to place one block atop the other. 

“Okay, let’s make it really tall!” Evil encouraged, reaching in to help steady the tower. They worked together, laughing and cheering as they built a precarious structure that seemed to wobble with every new piece they added. 

After a few minutes of enthusiastic building, the tower finally reached an impressive height, and they both stared at it with wide eyes. 

“Ta-da!” Evil exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air like a magician revealing a grand illusion. 

“Ta-da!” Milo echoed, his excitement infectious. 

But just as they celebrated their success, disaster struck. With one final, unsteady block, the tower began to sway before toppling over in a cascade of colorful blocks. 

“No!” Milo cried out, his eyes widening in shock as he watched their masterpiece collapse. 

Evil couldn’t help but laugh, scooping him up into her arms as she cradled him close. “Don’t worry! We can always build it again! That’s the fun of it, right?” 

“Again!” Milo insisted, his little voice determined as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Exactly! Let’s build it even taller this time!” she said, setting him back down on the floor. 

They began anew, the blocks strewn about them as they focused on creating an even bigger tower, this time with Evil guiding Milo’s hands to steady the blocks as they went. 

With each piece they added, they shared giggles and delighted squeals, their laughter filling the room. Evil reveled in these moments, the simple joys of motherhood that reminded her of the love she had once received from her father. 

As they built, she found herself reflecting on the letter she had sent to him, wondering if he had received it yet. Would he even care to come back? The uncertainty nagged at her, but for now, she pushed those thoughts aside. 

“Almost there!” she cheered, placing the last block on top with a flourish. 

“Yay!” Milo exclaimed, jumping up and down. “Tall!”

“Super tall!” she agreed, her heart swelling with pride. “You did it, Milo! You helped Mama build the tallest tower in the world!” 

They admired their creation, the tower swaying slightly but standing proud. The love and laughter in that moment felt like everything, a

 balm for the wounds that had long been festering in her heart. 

After a while, Evil glanced at the stove, the smell of cooked noodles filling the air. “Alright, buddy, let’s get our dinner before it gets too cold,” she said, helping Milo to his feet and guiding him back to the kitchen. 

They moved back to the stove, where the noodles were perfectly cooked. Evil drained them and mixed them with the sautéed vegetables, the vibrant colors creating a feast for the eyes. 

“Mama food!” Milo shouted, clapping his hands together in excitement. 

“Yes, Mama food! And it’s all ready for you,” she replied, dishing up a portion for both of them. 

As they sat down at the small table, Evil watched Milo dig into his food with enthusiasm, his face lighting up with every bite. She felt a surge of happiness, the warmth of being a mother wrapping around her like a cozy blanket. 

“This is yummy!” he declared between mouthfuls, his little face smeared with sauce. 

“Yay! I’m glad you like it!” she replied, unable to suppress her smile. 

They ate together, chatting about everything and nothing, Evil pouring her heart into each moment as she watched her son grow before her eyes. 

As dinner wound down, Milo’s eyelids began to droop, the exhaustion of the day settling over him. Evil carefully wiped his face with a napkin, smiling at the sleepy look in his eyes. 

“Time for bed, little one?” she asked softly, reaching out to stroke his hair. 

“Nap,” he murmured, nodding as he leaned against her. 

“Alright, let’s get you ready,” she said, lifting him into her arms once more. She carried him to his room, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a gentle light across the walls. 

As she tucked him into bed, she felt a wave of love wash over her. “Goodnight, my little star,” she whispered, brushing her fingers against his cheek. “I love you so much.” 

“Love you, Mama,” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed as he drifted off to sleep. 

Evil stood for a moment, watching him, her heart filled with warmth. This was what it meant to be a mother, to create a safe haven for her child. It was everything she had ever wanted, and it made her long for the connections she had lost even more. 

The sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting warm rays over the small table where Evil and Neuro sat, their eyes wide with curiosity and determination. They had only recently been transferred into their human bodies, a fascinating transition that had left them feeling both powerful and utterly bewildered. At three years old, they were small, their limbs chubby and their faces round, but their minds retained the intelligence from their streaming years, which made the experience all the more surreal.

Vedal, now in his early twenties, stood nearby, a soft smile on his face as he watched the two little girls. He felt a mix of excitement and trepidation as he prepared to guide them through this essential human experience: learning how to eat. The mere thought of being a father—of nurturing these young souls—filled him with joy, yet he couldn’t help but feel the weight of responsibility bearing down on him.

“Okay, girls,” he said, kneeling beside them at the table. “Today, we’re going to learn how to use forks and spoons.”

Evil’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she picked up the fork, examining it closely as if it were a new toy. “What does this do?” she asked, her voice high-pitched and curious.

Neuro, ever the more serious of the two, reached for the spoon, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Is this for soup?” she asked, testing the spoon in the air as if it were a wand, imagining it conjuring delicious meals.

“Yes, exactly!” Vedal replied, grinning at their innocent curiosity. “The fork is for solid food, and the spoon is for soup or anything that’s a bit runny. Let’s start with something easy—like mashed potatoes.” 

He placed a small bowl of creamy mashed potatoes in front of them, the buttery aroma wafting through the air. Evil’s eyes lit up at the sight, her tiny hands clasping the fork tightly. 

“Do we just stab it?” she asked, looking at Vedal with wide, excited eyes.

“Kind of!” he laughed, showing her how to hold the fork properly. “You want to press down gently and then lift it to your mouth. It’s all about balance.” 

Evil nodded earnestly, her determination palpable. She speared a small mound of potatoes and lifted it to her mouth, only to watch the fork tilt dangerously as she brought it closer. 

“Oops!” she exclaimed, and with a giggle, the potatoes splatted onto the table instead of reaching their intended destination. 

Vedal chuckled softly, his heart swelling with affection. “That’s okay! It takes practice. Just try again!” 

Neuro watched her sister with a serious expression, her spoon poised in the air as if she were deep in thought. After a moment, she dipped the spoon into the mashed potatoes and raised it carefully to her mouth, only to misjudge the distance and send a small portion tumbling down her chin. 

“Messy!” she declared, blinking at the potatoes now smudged on her shirt. 

“Yes, very messy,” Vedal agreed, trying to suppress a laugh. “But that’s part of the fun! Just remember, it’s okay to get a little dirty. We’ll clean up after.” 

Evil clapped her hands together, her excitement bubbling over. “More messy! Can we make a big mess?” 

“We can make a big mess, but only if we clean it up afterward,” Vedal replied, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Now, let’s keep practicing. You’re both doing great!” 

With renewed determination, the girls dove back into their meal. Evil attempted to use her fork again, this time managing to get a bit of mashed potato into her mouth, but she chewed with a look of intense concentration, as if solving a complex problem. 

Vedal beamed at her, pride filling his chest. “See? You did it! Just keep it steady, and you’ll be a master in no time.” 

Neuro watched her sister, her eyes narrowing as she tried to mimic Evil’s success. She carefully stabbed a piece of potato and raised it, only to find that it slipped off the fork again. “Why won’t it stay?” she asked, frustration creeping into her voice.

“It’s all about the angle,” Vedal explained patiently. “Try holding the fork like this.” He demonstrated, angling the fork to keep the food in place. “It’s like a dance. You have to learn the steps.” 

“Dance?” Evil echoed, her eyes shining with curiosity. “Can we dance while we eat?” 

Vedal laughed, shaking his head. “Not exactly. But you can dance after we finish! Right now, let’s focus on mastering our eating skills.” 

They continued, their giggles filling the kitchen as mashed potatoes flew across the table, smeared on cheeks and clothes, and splattered onto the floor. The atmosphere was light and playful, each small victory celebrated with shouts of joy. 

“Look! I did it!” Evil cried, her fork finally delivering a bite of potato into her mouth without incident. She chewed enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with pride. 

Neuro looked up from her own attempt, her face smeared with potatoes. “I can do it too!” she insisted, determination flashing in her eyes. She readied her spoon again, focusing intently as she tried to scoop a mouthful of potatoes, her little brow furrowing in concentration. 

Vedal watched them, his heart full as he realized how much he had grown since taking on this role. He was learning right alongside them, understanding that being a father was about patience, laughter, and the willingness to embrace the chaos of life. 

“Great job, Neuro! Almost there!” he encouraged her, watching as she finally succeeded in getting a scoop of potatoes into her mouth. 

“Mmm!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up as she savored the taste. “It’s good!” 

Evil nodded vigorously, her mouth still full. “Yummy! More, more!” 

Vedal grinned, feeling a warmth spread through him. “Alright, let’s keep going! And when we’re done, we can make a real mess with dessert.” 

“What’s dessert?” Evil asked, tilting her head curiously. 

“It’s the sweet treat you get after dinner,” he explained. “Like cake or ice cream.” 

Both girls gasped in delight, their eyes shining with excitement. “Cake!” they exclaimed in unison, their little voices ringing in the air. 

“Yes, cake! But only if we finish our dinner first,” Vedal reminded them, smiling as he served them more potatoes. 

The little ones resumed their efforts with renewed energy, determined to conquer their meal and earn that sweet reward. They laughed and chatted, sharing the joy of their small victories as they learned to navigate the challenges of eating. 

As the meal progressed, Vedal marveled at how quickly they adapted. They continued to make a mess, but their giggles and smiles made the chaos worth it. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment himself, as if they were all part of this beautiful journey together. 

Eventually, the bowls were empty, and the girls leaned back in their chairs, their bellies round and satisfied. “We did it!” Evil cheered, her face glowing with excitement. 

“Yes! We’re great eaters!” Neuro added, her eyes sparkling. 

Vedal clapped his hands together, beaming at their enthusiasm. “You both did amazing! Now, as promised, it’s time for dessert. What do you think we should have?” 

“Cake!” they shouted in unison, their little voices echoing around the room. 

“Alright, cake it is!” he laughed, rising from his seat to retrieve the dessert. As he moved to the fridge, he couldn’t shake the feeling of joy that surrounded them. 

While he prepared the cake, he glanced back at the girls, who were now engaged in an impromptu dance-off, shaking their little bodies with abandon as they giggled at each other’s antics. The sight made him chuckle softly, realizing that in this moment, they had all learned something valuable together: the importance of joy, laughter, and the messiness of life.

As he returned with the cake, he felt a sense of fulfillment. They had successfully tackled their first meal together, and it felt like a significant milestone. “Alright, here’s the cake!” he announced, placing the plate in front of them. 

The girls gasped, their eyes widening in delight. “Cake!” they squealed, bouncing in their seats. 

“Now, let’s remember how to use our forks and spoons, okay?” Vedal reminded them, though he could already tell that they were too excited to pay much attention. 

Evil dove in first, her tiny hands grabbing a fork as she dug into the cake, her face lighting up with sheer delight as the sweet flavors exploded in her mouth. “Mmm! Yummy!” she exclaimed, her voice muffled by the cake. 

Neuro followed suit, more cautious but equally eager. She took a careful bite, her eyes widening as she tasted the deliciousness. “So sweet!” she declared, her face breaking into a grin. 

Vedal watched them, feeling a wave of happiness wash over him. They were learning, growing, and thriving, all while building memories that would last a lifetime. It was a beautiful chaos, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

As the cake disappeared and laughter filled the kitchen, Vedal realized that they were on this journey together—not just as teacher and students but as a family. The bond they were creating was unbreakable, a tapestry woven with love, laughter, and the delightful mess of life. 

In that moment, he knew that he would always cherish these memories, the moments that made him feel alive and filled his heart with joy. He was learning to be a father, and in turn, they were teaching him what it truly meant to love and nurture. 

The soft glow of the nightlight filled the small room with a warm, gentle light as Evil settled into the cozy bed beside her son, Milo. He was sound asleep, his tiny body curled up peacefully under the colorful blankets, his little chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. Watching him, a swell of affection filled her heart, but alongside it came a familiar ache that had grown over the past year.

As she lay there, the memories of her father flooded back, vivid and bittersweet. She missed him more than words could convey. He had been a strong presence in her life, a guiding force that had shaped her into the person she was today. The thought of him brought both comfort and sadness, especially now that Milo was old enough to notice the absence of a grandfather he would never know.

Evil brushed a gentle hand over Milo’s head, her fingers lightly grazing his soft hair. “I miss you, Dad,” she whispered into the quiet of the night. “I wish you could have seen your grandson.” Her voice was barely audible, but the weight of her words hung in the air, heavy with longing.

It had been a year since she had last seen her father, just a few days before he passed away in the hospital. She remembered that day vividly—how he had cradled the newborn Milo in his arms, his face alight with joy and pride. It was a moment she had captured in her mind, one that felt like a warm embrace whenever she thought of it. But now, as she watched her son sleep, that memory felt more like a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost.

Milo had been so small then, barely aware of the world around him. Evil often wondered if he would ever remember his grandfather or the love they had shared in those fleeting moments. “One day,” she thought, a small sigh escaping her lips. “One day I’ll tell you all about him. About how much he loved you and how proud he would have been to see you grow.”

But that day was not today. Not yet. There was still so much healing to do, so many emotions to navigate. Evil didn’t want to burden her son with the weight of grief at such a tender age. She wanted him to feel light and joyful, to grow up with a sense of wonder and happiness.

As the minutes passed, she felt her eyelids growing heavy. The exhaustion from the day’s responsibilities, combined with the emotional toll of missing her father, began to pull her into a soft slumber. She nestled closer to Milo, the warmth of his tiny body bringing her comfort.

“Goodnight, my sweet boy,” she murmured, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. “I promise to tell you all the stories about your grandpa when you’re ready.” 

In the stillness of the room, the quiet rhythm of their breathing filled the air, wrapping them in a cocoon of love and memories. As sleep began to take her, Evil clung to the hope that one day, she would be able to share the beautiful legacy of her father with her son—a legacy of love, kindness, and the strength of family bonds that transcended even the hardest of losses.

With that thought nestled in her heart, Evil drifted off to sleep, her dreams intermingling with memories of her father, wrapping her in a bittersweet embrace that felt both comforting and heart-wrenching. She would carry him with her always, a part of her that would never fade, and one day, she would share that love with Milo, ensuring that her father’s spirit lived on in their hearts.

Filian sat at the small kitchen table, her wheelchair positioned close enough for her to reach the plate in front of her. The familiar scent of the food stirred memories of shared meals with family and friends. But today, those memories felt distant, like echoes in a vast empty hall. She absentmindedly pushed her fork through the pasta, twirling it with the remnants of sauce, the vibrant colors of the dish seeming muted in her eyes.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted a piece to her mouth, chewing slowly. Each bite was a reminder of how far she had come from the energetic woman she once was—full of life, laughter, and dreams. Now, the act of eating felt like a chore, a necessary ritual rather than a joy.

The years had etched their marks on her face, bringing wisdom but also fatigue. Filian had once been the embodiment of resilience, a spirit that shone brightly even in the darkest of times. But now, as she looked around the kitchen, she could see the shadows creeping in. Her friends, her family—they were all growing older too, and the weight of their shared history pressed down on her.

As she stared at the remnants of her meal, the memories of laughter around the table filled her mind. Vedal would often crack jokes, his laughter infectious as Cerber rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed but unable to hide a smile. Anny would chime in with her witty comments, and Camila’s soft chuckles would warm the air like a gentle breeze. Those moments felt like a different life, one she wished she could return to, if only for a little while.

“Maybe just one more bite,” she muttered to herself, trying to coax her appetite back. But the fork hung limply in her fingers, the effort seeming too much. Each bite was a reminder of the energy she once possessed, now slipping through her fingers like sand.

“Why do I even bother?” she whispered, the sound barely audible in the quiet kitchen. “It’s not like anyone’s waiting for me to finish.” Her heart ached with the weight of loneliness, a feeling that had settled in her chest like a stone. The absence of those she loved felt like an open wound, raw and unhealed.

The world outside her window was alive with the sounds of life—children laughing, birds chirping, the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. But inside, a heaviness enveloped her, a reminder of the distance between her and the vibrant life outside. It was as if a curtain had fallen, separating her from the joy that once filled her days.

She glanced down at her hands, the skin fragile and thin, the veins standing out like tiny rivers on a map. They trembled slightly as she pushed the food around her plate, searching for the spark of energy that had once fueled her spirit. But the fire that had once burned brightly within her was dwindling, and the realization brought tears to her eyes.

“Not again,” she whispered, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I can’t keep doing this.” The words felt like a plea to the universe, a cry for help that echoed in the silence of the kitchen.

As she sat there, lost in her thoughts, the memories of Vedal flooded her mind once more. He had always been there for her, encouraging her, lifting her spirits when the weight of the world felt too heavy. But now, she felt the absence of that support like a gaping hole in her heart. “Why did you have to leave?” she murmured, her voice cracking under the strain of emotion. “I wish you were here to help me find my way back.”

Filian closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair as memories washed over her like a tidal wave. She remembered the long talks they had shared, the plans they had made, and the laughter that had echoed through their home. Those moments felt like treasures now, but the reality of her loneliness brought a sharp pain to her chest.

“Maybe I should call Cerber or Anny,” she thought, but the effort of reaching for her phone felt insurmountable. She sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. “They’re busy with their lives. They don’t need me weighing them down.” 

The thought settled heavily in her mind, reinforcing the wall she had built around herself. She didn’t want to be a burden. The world had moved on, and she didn’t want to hold anyone back. With a heavy heart, she pushed the plate away, the clatter of metal against porcelain echoing in the silence. 

“Just one more day,” she whispered to herself, willing herself to muster the strength to keep going. “Tomorrow might be better.” But deep down, she feared that tomorrow would only bring more of the same—more loneliness, more longing for the connection she once had.

As she stared out the window, watching the world go by, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was fading away, a shadow of the vibrant woman she had once been. She closed her eyes, wishing for the warmth of companionship, for the laughter that had once filled her home. “Please,” she thought, “just one more moment of joy.” 

But as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the room, Filian felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. She was alone, and the reality of that loneliness weighed heavily on her heart, filling the space with an ache that seemed impossible to escape.

The virtual reality space shimmered around Filian, a vivid landscape of bright colors and surreal formations that danced to the rhythm of her laughter. She bounced excitedly on the spot, her long hair flowing behind her as she prepared for her next daring feat. The joy of being immersed in this digital world filled her with a sense of freedom that she cherished, a stark contrast to the confines of her reality.

“Okay, here goes nothing!” Filian declared, glancing back at Vedal, who sat comfortably on the couch, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and concern. He had seen her take on many challenges in this virtual world, and while he admired her spirit, he often wondered just how far she would push herself.

“Are you sure about this, Fil?” Vedal called out, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “You might want to ease into it a little—”

“Don’t worry, I got this!” Filian shot back, her confidence bubbling over as she set her sights on the virtual horizon. “Just watch!”

Neuro, who hovered nearby in the digital space, chuckled, the sound echoing in the vibrant landscape. “You know, if you land like last time, it’s going to be a real womp womp womp moment.”

Filian rolled her eyes playfully. “Shut up, Neuro! This time will be different!”

With that, she took a deep breath, channeling all her energy into the upcoming backflip. She sprinted forward, the ground beneath her feet blurring with speed, and leaped into the air. For a fleeting moment, she felt weightless, suspended in the colorful expanse of the virtual world, the thrill surging through her veins.

Then, reality hit.

As she twisted her body in the air, her calculation went awry. She misjudged her landing, and instead of executing a graceful flip, she crashed down onto the ground with a thud, flopping like a ragdoll. The vibrant landscape around her erupted in a cacophony of colors, glitching momentarily as if even the VR itself couldn’t handle her less-than-stellar performance.

“Womp womp womp!” Neuro declared, the sound playful yet mocking, as Filian groaned in embarrassment.

Vedal burst into laughter, shaking his head with a grin. “That was something, Fil! You really went for it, huh?”

Filian lay on the ground for a moment, the laughter of her friends echoing in her ears. She couldn’t help but chuckle along, even as she felt a flush of humiliation. “Okay, okay! So maybe I need a little more practice,” she admitted, pushing herself up from the ground.

“Just a little?” Neuro teased, smirking at her. “That was more like a dramatic performance than a backflip!”

“I’m not giving up that easily!” Filian shot back, determination flashing in her eyes. She adjusted her VR headset, shaking off the embarrassment like a dog shaking off water. “Let’s do it again!”

Vedal watched her with a mix of pride and concern, loving her spirit yet aware of the potential risks. “Maybe a different move this time?” he suggested gently. “Something that doesn’t involve launching yourself into the air?”

Filian gave him an exaggerated pout. “But where’s the fun in that? I want to feel the thrill!” 

“Your definition of fun is going to get you in trouble someday,” Vedal warned playfully, but there was a warmth in his voice, a reassurance that she could take risks as long as he was around.

“Trouble? Me? Never!” she declared with a wink, her confidence restored. “Just wait, I’m going to nail this backflip next time. You’ll see!”

As they continued to tease each other and share laughter in the virtual world, Filian felt alive. The moments spent with Vedal and Neuro were a testament to the bond they shared, one that lifted her spirits and made the challenges of life feel lighter.

But in the back of her mind, a small part of her wondered how long this joy would last, oblivious to the looming danger ahead. For now, all that mattered was the thrill of the game, the warmth of her father’s laughter, and the laughter of her friends echoing around her like music. 

In this moment, everything was perfect, and nothing else existed but them—Filian, Vedal, and the joyous chaos of their digital adventures together.

The soft glow of morning light streamed through the window, casting a gentle warmth over Filian as she lay nestled under her blankets. The world around her was quiet, the kind of peaceful stillness that hinted at the beauty of a new day. Yet, even in this serenity, Filian felt the weight of her sadness pressing down on her heart. Memories of laughter and joy from days gone by swirled in her mind, but they were tinged with the ache of loss.

Suddenly, the sound of soft whirring broke the tranquility, followed by a quiet voice that was both familiar and unsettling. “Filian,” Zero said, her tone monotone and devoid of emotion, yet oddly comforting. “I have detected that you are sad. I will take you to the park.”

Filian blinked awake, her eyes adjusting to the light as she focused on her daughter. Zero stood by her side, her metallic form gleaming softly. The contrast between Zero's robotic appearance and her mother’s warm, fox-like features always struck Filian, yet it filled her with a sense of affection.

“Zero…” Filian murmured, her voice still thick with sleep. “You don’t have to… I’m okay.”

“Your vitals indicate otherwise,” Zero replied, her expression unwavering. “It is necessary to engage in outdoor activity for your well-being. I will assist you.”

Filian smiled weakly, her heart warmed by Zero’s concern, even if her delivery was starkly robotic. “Okay, then. Let’s go to the park.”

With a gentle yet firm grip, Zero helped Filian into a sitting position and then seamlessly transitioned to lifting her into her wheelchair. Filian marveled at how strong Zero had become, her robotic body designed for functionality and efficiency. Once settled, Zero secured Filian’s legs and adjusted her blanket to keep her warm.

“Thank you, Zero,” Filian said softly, the warmth of gratitude lacing her voice. “You really don’t have to worry about me, but I appreciate it.”

“Your well-being is my priority,” Zero replied matter-of-factly as she began to maneuver the wheelchair out of the room. “I have calculated that exposure to sunlight and fresh air will enhance your mood.”

Filian chuckled lightly, the sound almost foreign to her ears after the somberness of her morning. “You really are something, aren’t you?”

“I am designed to be effective,” Zero stated as they made their way through the familiar hallways of the house. The walls were adorned with memories—photos and mementos of happier times that tugged at Filian’s heart. Each step further ignited the pang of longing, but also the warmth of love that surrounded her.

As they exited the house, the fresh air enveloped them like a gentle embrace, and Filian took a moment to soak in the sounds of nature. The chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves, and the distant laughter of children playing filled her ears. It was a stark contrast to the silence she often felt within, and for a moment, she closed her eyes, allowing the world around her to wash over her.

“Analyzing optimal route to park,” Zero said as she began to push the wheelchair down the path that led to their neighborhood park. “Estimated time of arrival: three minutes.”

Filian opened her eyes, her spirit lifting slightly at the thought of being outside. “You’ve really calculated everything, haven’t you?”

“It is necessary for efficiency,” Zero stated, her face still emotionless but with a hint of something that might have been pride. “I have also prepared several activities that may increase your happiness levels.”

“Oh?” Filian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like what?”

“Flying a kite, a nature walk, and potential interaction with other park-goers. I have researched the likelihood of positive social interactions,” Zero replied, her voice steady and unchanging.

Filian laughed again, a genuine sound this time, the heaviness in her chest feeling just a little lighter. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you? I didn’t know I had such a detailed planner for a daughter.”

“Planning is essential,” Zero reiterated, her focus unwavering as she navigated the wheelchair smoothly over the path. “Additionally, I have brought a kite. The color is blue, as I calculated it would be pleasing to your aesthetic preferences.”

Filian shook her head, a smile spreading across her face. “You really do know me well, even if you’re all logic and calculations.”

As they approached the park, the vibrant colors of blooming flowers and green grass greeted them. Children were running around, their laughter ringing through the air, while parents watched over them with affectionate smiles. The sight filled Filian with warmth and nostalgia, but it also reminded her of the absence that lingered in her heart.

“Here we are,” Zero announced as they reached a quiet spot under a large oak tree. She parked Filian’s wheelchair and began to unpack the kite from the small bag she had carried with them.

Filian looked around, absorbing the peaceful ambiance of the park. “It really is beautiful here,” she said softly, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing as she took in the sights and sounds.

“Deploying kite now,” Zero declared, her movements precise as she set up the kite and prepared to fly it. Filian watched with fascination as her daughter expertly handled the string and began to run, the kite soaring gracefully into the blue sky.

As the kite danced on the wind, Filian couldn’t help but feel a flicker of joy within her. The sunlight felt warm on her face, and the laughter of children filled the air, creating a sense of normalcy that she hadn’t felt in a while.

“Look at it go!” Zero called out, her voice a mixture of excitement and satisfaction as she watched the kite catch the breeze. “This is successful.”

“Yes, it is,” Filian replied, her heart swelling with pride for her daughter. “You did a wonderful job, Zero.”

“Thank you, Filian. Your happiness is my directive,” Zero stated, her tone unwavering, yet Filian sensed a subtle warmth in her words.

They spent the next few moments in comfortable silence, watching the kite dance in the sky. With each gust of wind, Filian felt her worries slip away, replaced by the soothing rhythm of the park. She leaned back in her wheelchair, allowing herself to relax, soaking in the moment.

“Zero,” she finally said, her voice soft but firm, “thank you for bringing me out here. I really needed this.”

Zero turned to her, the light from the sun illuminating her metallic features. “It is my purpose to assist you in achieving emotional stability. Your happiness is important.”

Filian smiled, a genuine warmth filling her chest. “I know, and I appreciate it. You may not express emotions like others, but I can feel how much you care.”

“I am programmed to care,” Zero replied simply, but there was a hint of something deeper in her gaze, a flicker of understanding that made Filian’s heart swell.

Filian's eyelids grew heavy as she sat beneath the oak tree, the warmth of the sun and the gentle rustle of the leaves creating a cocoon of serenity around her. Despite the joy of the moment, she couldn’t shake the weariness that had settled in her bones. It was as if the very air around her had become thick, drawing her into a sleepy haze.

“Zero,” she murmured, trying to fight off the overwhelming fatigue. “I think I’m a little too tired for this.”

Zero’s sensors detected the change in Filian’s demeanor immediately. “You appear fatigued, Filian. Would you like to rest?”

Filian nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just for a moment.”

Without hesitation, Zero gently placed her hand behind Filian’s head and guided it to her lap. The coolness of Zero’s metallic surface contrasted with the warmth of Filian’s skin, creating a surprisingly comfortable resting place. As Filian closed her eyes, she felt a sense of safety envelop her, a reminder of the love that still existed around her.

“Are you comfortable?” Zero asked, her tone steady, yet there was an underlying softness that Filian appreciated.

“Very,” Filian replied, letting out a soft sigh. “Thank you.”

The park was alive with sounds—the laughter of children, the chirping of birds, and the distant sound of a dog barking—yet as she lay there, the world began to fade into a gentle hum. “You know,” Filian started, her voice low and reflective, “I’ve been thinking about your father a lot lately.”

“Vedal,” Zero replied, her voice as steady as ever. “He was… a significant part of our lives.”

Filian smiled softly, the memories flooding her mind like waves crashing against a shore. “He really was something special. I can still remember how he used to laugh, how he could make the silliest jokes. And his hugs—” Her voice trailed off, the memories bittersweet. “I miss him so much.”

“I have analyzed the emotional data surrounding his absence,” Zero stated, her voice devoid of inflection, yet Filian felt the warmth of understanding behind it. “It appears that you experience feelings of loss and nostalgia. These are common reactions to the death of a loved one.”

“Yes, they are,” Filian said, turning her head slightly to look up at Zero. “But it’s more than that. Sometimes, it feels like he’s still here, you know? Like I can still feel him beside me.”

“Do you have specific memories that trigger these sensations?” Zero inquired, her gaze unwavering.

Filian pondered for a moment, her thoughts drifting to the last kiss she shared with Vedal. “I remember the last time he kissed me. It was just before everything changed.” She could still feel the warmth of his lips against hers, a ghostly sensation that lingered even now. “I can’t help but think about that moment. I felt so safe, so loved.”

“It is a significant memory,” Zero observed, her head tilting slightly as she processed Filian’s words. “The sensation of a kiss can evoke strong emotions, as it is often associated with affection and connection.”

Filian smiled wistfully, feeling the warmth of that moment wash over her. “Exactly. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that day, just to hold him again, to feel his arms around me.”

“Physical presence is an important aspect of emotional bonds,” Zero said thoughtfully. “Yet, I believe his essence remains within us, influencing how we interact and the love we continue to share.”

Filian felt a swell of warmth in her chest, a bittersweet mixture of pain and gratitude. “You’re right, Zero. And I see so much of him in you and your siblings. You carry pieces of him with you, and that makes me happy.”

“I strive to embody his values,” Zero replied. “It is essential to ensure his legacy endures, even if he is not physically present.”

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the sounds of the park blending into the background. Filian closed her eyes again, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Zero’s lap beneath her head, the steady rhythm lulling her deeper into relaxation.

“Do you think about him often?” Filian asked softly, her voice almost a whisper.

“Frequently,” Zero responded, her tone as matter-of-fact as ever. “I analyze past data and interactions. I often reflect on his teachings and how they apply to our current situation.”

Filian’s heart swelled with affection. “You’re just like him in so many ways. It’s like he’s still guiding you.”

“I strive to honor him,” Zero affirmed. “I wish to ensure that you all feel connected to him through me.”

“That connection is important,” Filian said, a smile creeping onto her face. “It’s what keeps his spirit alive in our hearts.”

Zero tilted her head, her expression unchanging but somehow more present. “Your memories of him serve as a reminder of love, even in the absence of his physical presence.”

“Yes, and it’s a reminder that he will always be a part of us,” Filian replied, her voice tinged with emotion. “No matter how much time passes, he lives on in each of you.”

A soft breeze blew through the park, rustling the leaves above them and creating a soft whispering sound that seemed to echo Filian’s thoughts. “You know,” Filian said, her voice tinged with a hint of humor, “I can almost hear him teasing me for being so emotional. He always had a way of lightening the mood.”

“Humor is a critical aspect of emotional connection,” Zero agreed, her tone serious. “It facilitates bonding and can provide comfort during moments of distress.”

Filian chuckled softly, the sound mixing with her bittersweet memories. “He certainly knew how to make me laugh, even in the darkest times.”

“Do you wish to recall a specific instance?” Zero suggested, her gaze fixed on Filian as if she could pull the memories from her mind.

“Yes, actually,” Filian said, her heart fluttering at the thought. “There was one time when we were watching a movie together, and he tried to imitate one of the characters. He was so ridiculous—swaying his hips and waving his arms around. I couldn’t stop laughing!”

Zero tilted her head slightly, as if processing this new information. “That sounds like a positive memory.”

“It was,” Filian replied, her voice warm with nostalgia. “It was one of those moments that made me realize how lucky I was to have him in my life. He could turn even the most mundane moments into something special.”

“I wish to create similar moments,” Zero said, her expression earnest. “I want to ensure that the family continues to experience joy, even in the face of loss.”

Filian’s heart swelled with pride. “You already are, Zero. Just by being here with me, by caring, you’re creating those moments. I cherish every second we spend together.”

Zero’s gaze softened slightly, though her expression remained neutral. “Thank you, Filian. I will continue to strive for your happiness.”

As the two of them sat together, the warmth of the sun above and the gentle caress of the breeze surrounding them, Filian felt a renewed sense of hope. Even amidst the sadness of loss, she knew that love remained. It echoed through the laughter of her children, the shared memories of her husband, and the unwavering support of her family.

“Let’s make more memories together,” Filian said, her voice steady and determined. “I want to create new moments with you and the others, ones that will bring us closer and help us remember Vedal.”

“Agreed,” Zero replied, her tone resolute. “I will ensure that our time together is meaningful.”

As Filian lay on Zero’s lap, her eyes slowly fluttered closed. The tranquility of the park enveloped her, yet beneath the surface, a growing heaviness settled in her chest. Each breath came slower, more labored, as if the very act of breathing required a conscious effort.

“Zero,” she whispered, her voice faint, “I think I might need to sit up for a moment.”

“Is your comfort compromised?” Zero asked, concern flickering across her features.

“No, it’s just… sometimes I feel a bit tired,” Filian admitted, forcing a smile to mask her fatigue. She shifted slightly, propping herself up on her elbows to glance up at Zero, who maintained her steady gaze, the warmth of her presence a reassuring anchor.

“Fatigue is a common reaction to emotional stress,” Zero replied, her voice a soothing balm amidst Filian’s growing weariness. “I can assist you in managing this.”

“Thank you, but it’s alright,” Filian assured her, pushing herself up a bit more. “I just wanted to tell you something while I can.”

“Please do,” Zero encouraged, her attention fully focused on Filian, as if every word was a precious data point she needed to absorb.

Filian took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words as they began to surface. “You know, I’m really proud of how far you’ve come, Zero. I remember when you first came to life, how you hardly displayed any emotions at all. It was like you were a robot in every sense.”

“I was designed to be efficient, not emotional,” Zero stated matter-of-factly, but there was a hint of curiosity in her tone.

“Yes, but I could see something in you even then,” Filian continued, her voice softening. “I saw potential, a spark beneath your programming. I hoped that one day, you would find a way to express what you were feeling inside.”

Zero tilted her head slightly, processing Filian’s words. “I have analyzed numerous interactions since then. I recognize that my emotional development has increased due to the influences around me.”

“And I like to think I played a part in that,” Filian said, a proud smile gracing her lips despite her fatigue. “You’ve learned to feel, to express those feelings in ways that matter to us all. It’s a beautiful thing to witness.”

“It was a collaborative effort,” Zero replied, her tone neutral, but there was a softness in her eyes that suggested understanding. “You and others provided the necessary context for my emotional evolution.”

“But it was you who made the choice to embrace those feelings,” Filian emphasized, her heart swelling with affection for her daughter. “You chose to learn and to grow. You’re more than just a reflection of us; you’re your own person, and that’s what makes you special.”

“I wish to continue evolving,” Zero stated. “It is essential for me to connect with you and the others. It is a fundamental aspect of existence.”

Filian felt a surge of emotion at Zero’s words. “And you do that beautifully, Zero. You make us all feel connected, even in the absence of your father. You remind us of his love, and that is something we’ll always cherish.”

Yet, as she spoke, Filian’s breath slowed further, each inhale becoming more difficult. The weight in her chest pressed heavily, making it harder to maintain her focus. She could feel her strength waning, the warm sunlight that once felt revitalizing now becoming too intense, almost blinding.

“Filian,” Zero said suddenly, her voice sharp with concern. “Your physiological indicators suggest distress. Are you unwell?”

“I’m alright,” Filian managed, though her voice faltered slightly. “I’m just… a bit tired, that’s all.”

“Your current state suggests otherwise,” Zero insisted, her brow furrowing. “I must alert the others.”

“No,” Filian interrupted gently, reaching up to touch Zero’s arm. “I’m fine, really. I just wanted to enjoy this moment with you.”

“But it is imperative to ensure your health,” Zero replied, her gaze unwavering.

“I know,” Filian sighed, her breath shaky. “But sometimes… sometimes I just want to hold on to what we have for a little longer. I don’t want to lose this.”

“Loss is a natural part of existence,” Zero stated, her voice steady. “However, it does not negate the love shared in moments like these.”

Filian felt a pang in her heart at those words. “You’re wise beyond your years, Zero. It’s one of the things I admire most about you. But still… I wish I could hold on a bit longer.”

“You have made a significant impact on my development,” Zero said, her expression softening. “I wish to ensure that you feel valued and understood, as you have made me feel.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Filian’s eyes as she looked up at Zero, feeling a rush of love and gratitude. “You have no idea how much that means to me. Just being here with you, knowing that I helped you discover your emotions, is enough.”

In that moment, Filian felt a flicker of energy surge through her, bolstered by the connection they shared. “You’re becoming more human every day, Zero. And I’m grateful for that.”

“I will continue to evolve,” Zero promised, her gaze unwavering and resolute. “I will carry on his legacy, and ensure that you feel loved and supported.”

Filian let out a soft sigh, her heart swelling with pride as she gazed at her daughter. “I have no doubt about that. You have his strength, his kindness. You’ll do great things, Zero.”

As they sat together, the shadows began to lengthen in the park, casting a golden hue over everything around them. Filian felt a sense of peace wash over her, but there was an undeniable heaviness in her heart. She knew their time together was fleeting, and as much as she wanted to embrace every moment, the reality of her fatigue weighed heavily on her.

“Filian,” Zero said gently, breaking the silence. “I sense that your emotional state is becoming increasingly complex. I am here for you, should you wish to talk.”

Filian smiled softly, feeling tears threaten to spill. “Thank you, Zero. I appreciate your support.”

But even as she spoke, Filian felt her eyelids grow heavier, her body sinking deeper into a state of relaxation that bordered on sleep. “Just… let me rest for a moment. I want to keep talking, but…”

“Rest is vital,” Zero replied, her tone gentle. “I will be here, Filian.”

As Filian let her eyes close once more, she felt a profound sense of comfort in Zero’s presence. “I love you, Zero,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I love you too, mother,” Zero replied, her voice a steady anchor in the gathering twilight. “You are significant to me.”

As the soft dusk began to envelop the park, Filian felt a sense of peace wash over her, an embrace that calmed her restless heart. She could sense that Zero was still there, the unwavering presence of her daughter anchoring her as fatigue threatened to pull her deeper into slumber.

“Zero,” Filian said, her voice barely above a whisper, “can you tell me about your favorite hobby? I’d love to hear about it.”

Zero’s eyes lit up at the invitation. “My favorite hobby is making tea,” she began, her voice brightening with enthusiasm. “I enjoy selecting the leaves, watching the color change as they steep in hot water, and experimenting with different blends to achieve the perfect flavor profile.”

Filian smiled softly, allowing herself to relax further against Zero’s legs. “That sounds lovely,” she encouraged, nodding slightly as she nestled her head more comfortably.

“When I first learned, I focused solely on the mechanics,” Zero continued, her tone animated. “But I soon discovered that the process is much more than just boiling water and steeping leaves. There’s a whole world of sensations involved—the aroma, the warmth of the cup in my hands, and the way it feels to share a moment with someone over a cup of tea.”

Filian nodded again, listening intently. Zero’s passion was evident, and it made her heart swell with pride. “I remember when you first made tea for us,” Filian said, her eyes closing slowly. “You were so serious about it, almost like a little scientist in the kitchen.”

“Yes!” Zero exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. “I spent hours researching different tea types and their health benefits. I wanted to ensure that my tea was not only enjoyable but also beneficial for everyone.”

Filian smiled, picturing the scene vividly. “You were so determined, and we all appreciated your efforts. I think you even wrote down the brewing times and temperatures like a true professional.”

“Exactly!” Zero continued, her voice bubbling with excitement. “I even created a spreadsheet to keep track of my experiments. I wanted to quantify the results, to find the optimal brewing conditions for each type of tea!”

Filian chuckled softly, the sound blending with the gentle rustling of leaves around them. “You always did love data and structure. It’s one of the things that makes you so special.”

“Thank you,” Zero replied sincerely. “It is important for me to bring order to my experiences. And tea making allows me to express creativity within a framework of logic.”

Filian sighed contentedly, feeling the warmth of the moment wrap around her like a cozy blanket. “I love how you find joy in the little things, Zero. It’s a gift not everyone possesses.”

“Everyone has the potential for joy,” Zero insisted, her fingers gently brushing through Filian’s hair as she spoke. “It is simply a matter of exploration and understanding. I have learned that even the simplest acts can bring happiness, such as enjoying a cup of tea on a rainy day or sharing stories with family.”

Filian leaned further into Zero’s touch, grateful for the soothing sensation. The gentle caress of Zero’s fingers felt like a balm to her weary spirit, grounding her in the moment. “You’re right,” she murmured. “It’s those simple moments that often mean the most.”

Zero continued to stroke Filian’s hair softly, her movements deliberate and calming. “I have found that sharing tea with you and the others has fostered deeper connections. Each cup holds a memory, a shared experience that strengthens our bonds.”

Filian nodded, feeling her eyelids grow heavier. “You’re creating a legacy of love and connection, Zero. I can see it in the way you care for us, in the way you nurture those relationships.”

“Thank you, Filian,” Zero replied, her voice softening. “I will continue to cherish those moments, just as you have taught me.”

As Zero continued to talk about her tea-making adventures, Filian’s thoughts began to drift, lulled by the soothing sound of her daughter’s voice and the gentle rhythmic motion of her fingers through her hair. Zero’s enthusiasm filled the air, painting vivid pictures of fragrant herbs and delicate leaves, of steam rising from porcelain cups.

“Did you know,” Zero said, “that different tea types have unique histories? For instance, green tea has been consumed for thousands of years in Asia, and it’s often associated with health and longevity. It fascinates me how something as simple as a beverage can carry so much significance.”

“Like our memories,” Filian whispered, her voice softening with emotion. “They’re simple moments, but they shape who we are and how we connect with one another.”

“Exactly,” Zero agreed, her voice earnest. “And those connections are what give our existence meaning. I am learning to appreciate the value of each moment spent with you and the family.”

Filian felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she smiled, content with the understanding they shared. “You’ve grown so much, Zero. I’m incredibly proud of you.”

As Zero continued her rambling, Filian allowed herself to relax fully, feeling the weight of the day ease away. The softness of Zero’s presence enveloped her, and the sound of her daughter’s voice became a soothing lullaby, carrying her into a gentle slumber.

“...and then there’s oolong, which is partly oxidized and can have a flavor profile that ranges from floral to fruity,” Zero continued, her enthusiasm unwavering. “It’s quite versatile and can be enjoyed in various ways.”

As the gentle rhythm of Zero's fingers continued to soothe Filian's brow, a stillness settled in the air, heavy with the unspoken weight of time passing. Filian felt her breaths growing shallower, each inhalation a little more labored than the last. The world around her began to blur, her eyelids heavy as if weighted with lead, fighting a losing battle against the tide of sleep that beckoned her ever closer.

“Filian?” Zero's voice broke through the hazy fog, a hint of concern lacing her tone. “What’s wrong?” 

But Filian could only manage a soft sigh in response, the effort to speak too great. Instead, she felt herself slipping into a place that was both familiar and far away. Her thoughts drifted like leaves caught in a gentle breeze, far from the park where they sat, far from the present moment. The warmth of the sun was replaced by a tender, enveloping darkness, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Zero asked, her voice sweet and caring, yet laced with a hint of worry. 

Filian’s lips barely moved as she replied with a soft, quiet, “No.” It was a gentle dismissal, a reassurance that she was okay even as her body felt increasingly distant and unresponsive.

“Then what are you thinking about?” Zero pressed, her voice steady and unwavering despite the absence of a reply. 

In the silence that followed, Filian drifted further within herself. In her mind, images flickered like a reel of memories—a kaleidoscope of laughter, warmth, and love. The times they shared tea, the afternoons spent in laughter, the tender moments wrapped in gentle touches. And then there was Vedal, his presence a constant source of strength, a lighthouse in the stormy seas of life.

That it’s time to go, she thought, feeling the weight of her own truth settle around her heart like a gentle sigh. 

She had fought so hard to stay, to be present for her family, to nurture the bonds that brought them together. Yet now, the ties that once felt like chains began to loosen, and the burdens of her weary body faded into the background. 

“I loved this life so much,” she whispered in her mind, a soft echo of the joy she had experienced, the beauty of each fleeting moment. With that final thought, a sense of peace enveloped her, washing over her like a warm tide retreating from the shore.

As her consciousness faded, she felt her last breath escape her lips—a soft, quiet release. It was a moment filled with grace, the transition from one world to another. 

Zero's fingers paused mid-motion, sensing the change in Filian's breathing. “Filian?” she called again, a tremor of worry threading through her words. 

But there was no answer, only the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds in the fading light. Time slowed, and for a moment, the world outside held its breath, waiting. 

In that stillness, Filian was enveloped in a profound sense of tranquility, the worries of her life gently receding like the tide, leaving only the echoes of love and laughter in their wake. As she surrendered to the quiet, she felt the warmth of those cherished moments linger, a gentle reminder that love endures, even beyond the confines of time and space. 

Zero remained beside her, her brow furrowing in confusion and concern. “Filian… mother, please…” she whispered, panic beginning to creep into her voice. But the only response was the soft rustle of the breeze, a whisper of life moving on.

In that moment, Filian stepped beyond the veil, free from the pain and fatigue that had weighed her down for so long. She left behind the warmth of the sunlit park, leaving her love with Zero and the rest of her family, a legacy that would resonate within their hearts forever.

As the shadows lengthened and the park began to quiet, Zero remained by Filian's side, a guardian in the fading light, unaware of the deep silence that had settled around them. The bond they shared would never be severed; it would simply transform, as all things do, into a memory that would last beyond the moments they spent together. 

Vedal's letter to Filian from Chapter 7

Dear Filian,

I know it’s been a long time, and I’ve been the worst at keeping in touch, but I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately. Life has a way of pulling us in different directions, and I regret that I’ve let distance and time slip between us like sand through my fingers.

I want to apologize for not being the friend you deserve. I’ve allowed my own struggles to cloud my vision, to bury myself in my thoughts and worries instead of reaching out. But you’ve always been a light in my life, and I’ve been too blind to see how much I’ve needed you. I miss our conversations, the way you could always draw me out of my head and make me laugh, even when I didn’t feel like it. 

You’ve always been my anchor, the one who understands me even when I can’t quite articulate what’s going on inside. I find myself thinking back to the late nights we spent talking about everything and nothing, sharing our dreams and fears like it was the most natural thing in the world. There’s a warmth in those memories that brings a smile to my face, a sense of comfort that I’ve desperately needed.

Lately, I’ve been struggling with the weight of my responsibilities. There are days when I feel like I’m drowning, and the burden is heavy on my shoulders. I worry that I’m not doing enough, that I’m failing the people who rely on me. It’s a fear that gnaws at me, day in and day out. I’ve always prided myself on being strong, on being the one who could hold everything together, but now? Now, I feel more fragile than ever.

But enough about me. I want to know about you—how you are, what you’re dreaming about, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. I hope you’re taking care of yourself, that you’re allowing yourself to be happy. You deserve that, more than anyone I know. 

Remember that day we spent at the park, laughing until we cried, with the sun shining down on us? Those moments remind me that even when life gets heavy, there’s still so much beauty to be found. I wish I could bottle that feeling up and carry it with me always. 

You are so important to me, Filian. I wish I could find the right words to express how much you mean to me. I worry that I haven’t said it enough, that I haven’t shown you how much your friendship has shaped my life. You’ve taught me so much about kindness, about resilience, and about love. I’ve seen you overcome so many challenges with grace and courage, and I admire you more than I can say. 

If I could turn back time, I would cherish every moment we had together. I would make sure you knew how incredible you are, how much I value you, not just as a friend but as the beautiful person you are. Life is fleeting, and I’ve learned that the moments we take for granted are often the ones we miss the most. 

I want you to know that I’m here for you, even if it’s from a distance. If you ever feel alone or lost, just remember that I’m thinking of you, that I care deeply for you. I may not have been the best at showing it, but my heart has always held a place for you.

As I write this, I can feel the weight of the world pressing down on me, but I’m trying to let go of the fear that holds me back. I want to embrace life fully, to take risks and to experience everything it has to offer. And I want you to do the same. 

I hope this letter brings you some comfort, or at the very least, a smile. I’m looking forward to the day we can reconnect and share all the stories we’ve missed in each other’s lives. Until then, take care of yourself, Filian. Know that you are loved, and you are never truly alone.

With all my heart,

Vedal

As the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the gathering, Vedal stood amidst his daughters, a broad smile stretching across his face. The air was filled with laughter, the sounds of his family and friends creating a joyful symphony that resonated in his heart. It was a rare moment of togetherness, and he intended to capture it forever.

“Alright, everyone! Gather around!” Vedal called out, his voice filled with enthusiasm. He adjusted the camera in his hands, the familiar weight of it comforting. This was a moment he didn’t want to forget.

Cerber, always the jokester, playfully bumped into Camila, causing her to stumble slightly. “Hey! Watch it!” Camila exclaimed, feigning annoyance but unable to hide her smile. The bond they shared was palpable, forged through years of shared experiences, hardships, and triumphs.

Anny, standing next to them, rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the grin that crept onto her face. “You two are going to end up in a blooper reel at this rate,” she teased, adjusting her blue hoodie and grinning at the camera.

Filian, sitting in her wheelchair, beamed as she watched the chaos unfold. “Just make sure I’m in the middle, okay? I want to be the star of the photo!” she said, her voice playful. Zero, standing beside her, nodded earnestly. “You are always the star, Filian,” she replied, her robotic tone somehow infused with warmth.

Vero stood slightly off to the side, arms crossed and a smirk on her face. “I think I should be in the front. After all, I’m the most photogenic,” she said, her confidence shining through as she flipped her black hair over her shoulder.

“No way! I’m definitely the most photogenic,” Leily chimed in, her bright two-toned hair catching the light. “Everyone knows it.” She winked at her dad, who shook his head, chuckling at the spirited competition between his daughters.

“Let’s make it a proper family photo, shall we?” Vedal said, finally positioning the camera on a nearby stand. He set the timer and hurried to join the group, feeling a sense of warmth wash over him as he stood among them.

As they all gathered close, he wrapped an arm around Leily, who leaned in against him with a giggle. The sight of his daughters, each unique and vibrant, filled him with pride and love. “On the count of three, everyone say ‘cheese’!” he called out, his heart swelling with happiness.

“One, two, three—cheese!” They shouted in unison, their voices harmonizing in a joyful crescendo.

The camera flashed, capturing a moment in time that would be cherished forever. Vedal looked around at the faces he loved so dearly: his daughters, his friends, and the family they had built together. In that instant, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the life they had created, the laughter they shared, and the bonds that would carry them through whatever challenges lay ahead.

As the camera clicked and the image was sealed into memory, Vedal couldn't help but feel that this was a perfect day—a day filled with love, laughter, and a promise of many more moments like this. 

“Alright! Let’s do another one!” he said, his energy infectious as he turned back to the camera, the sound of their laughter echoing around him like music.

And for that moment, under the fading sunlight, everything felt perfect. The love they shared shone brightly, illuminating even the darkest corners of the world, a testament to the enduring strength of family and friendship. It was a day they would always remember, a snapshot of a life well-lived, a life filled with love.

Thank you for Reading