“We need to talk, Tereshkova.” Arnaldo stopped Valentina the moment she attempted to leave the control room and return to her quarters.

  Seeing him block the doorway, Valentina shifted to the left, then to the right, trying to slip past him, but Arnaldo anticipated her every move. She was about to raise her hand and push him aside with her psychic ability when Arnaldo suddenly shouted, his voice thick with panic and confusion:

  “Don’t! Stop, Tereshkova! I just want to apologize, that’s all!”

  Valentina had not expected this at all. She froze in place, as if rooted to the floor, and slowly lowered her hand.

  “I’m sorry for what I said to the two of you yesterday. Especially to you, Tereshkova. I know my words hurt you, even if it wasn’t my intention. No matter what explanation I give now, it would only sound like a shallow excuse for my own ignorance. But please believe me – I truly never meant to harm either of you. I know we’re all under immense pressure after everything that’s happened, and all three of us need time to heal. I won’t force you to trust me right away. I just hope… we can give each other a chance. All right, Tereshkova?”

  The sincerity in Arnaldo’s eyes and the urgency in his apology genuinely reached the hearts of the two children. Valentina hesitated for a few seconds, then slipped past him and headed toward the exit. Before leaving, she turned her head back and said quietly, “I’ll think about it, Mr. Méndez,” before walking straight toward her bedroom.

  Tuan noticed that this was the first time Valentina had not addressed Arnaldo by the nickname “the robot guy” she had given him. He stepped closer, raised his thumb, and flashed a wide grin. Arnaldo let out a relieved breath and returned a faint smile. The two of them turned back to the control panel and began configuring the settings for their new home.

  After working for a while, Arnaldo suddenly spoke up:

  “Dr. Tiên was a good woman.”

  “You’ve met her before?” Tuan asked, his expression immediately attentive. “When?”

  “More than ten years ago,” Arnaldo replied in a low voice. “Back then, I was arrogant – intoxicated by what I believed was a god-given talent. I looked down on the fools and the insignificant masses of society with the same contempt people reserve for repulsive insects. Everything came to a head the year I received an invitation to work at L.A.B, when I was nineteen.”

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  Tuan looked up at him, remaining silent.

  “Of course, I rejected it without hesitation. A covert research facility hidden in space to avoid public scrutiny – how could that ever match my ambitions at the time? Fame, wealth, power… those were the things I truly craved.” He let out a dry laugh. “Thinking back now, I’m honestly ashamed of who I was.”

  He sighed, his gaze drifting into the distance.

  “My life took a turn about a year later. My mother and I were in an accident. She died on the way to the hospital. I survived – but shortly after I recovered, the doctors told me I had stage-three leukemia, and that I likely didn’t have much time left to live. At that moment, my entire world collapsed. The bright future ahead of me turned to ashes, and my pride was completely shattered. After my mother’s funeral, I drowned myself in alcohol night after night, trying to forget the cruel joke fate had played on me.”

  “That was when Dr. Tiên appeared. She was the one who had written me the invitation to L.A.B over a year earlier. This time, she came to see me in person instead of sending a letter. But you know – when you’re facing death, work is the last thing on your mind. I rejected her outright and told her to leave without even looking back.”

  Arnaldo suddenly let out a soft laugh, his eyes filled with weary disbelief.

  “Do you know what she did next? She sat down beside me and drank nearly half a bottle of my bourbon before telling me how she had lost the man she loved most – and an unborn child – in an accident about fifteen years earlier. Can you believe that? Fifteen years, Tuan. She once had everything I desperately wanted, only to lose it all overnight. How could she endure something like that for so long, while I completely fell apart over my own suffering?” He sighed again. “Maybe that’s why she cared so deeply about you. She always saw you as her own son.”

  Arnaldo reached out and gently ruffled Tuan’s hair. Tuan’s gaze lowered, lost in thought.

  “She told me many things that night. She said I needed to live for myself – and for those who had passed on. As long as I kept moving forward, tomorrow would surely be brighter.”

  “So… she went through all of that?” Tuan said softly, his eyes brimming with sorrow. “And yet she never told me any of it.”

  At that moment, Tuan’s mind replayed the recording of Dr. Tiên’s final words.

  So that’s why she said those things. So that’s why she always treated me like her own flesh and blood. So that means… I once had a family. A warm one. So that means…

  The thoughts broke apart as tears spilled from his eyes. The knot that had tightened in his chest finally unraveled. He had received so much love from her, and before she left this world, she had given all of it back to him, wholly and without reserve. His emotions surged with each tear.

  Arnaldo stood up and pulled him into an embrace. His rough hands were unexpectedly gentle. Tuan buried his face against him and cried openly, like a three-year-old child. The warmth of his tears gradually washed everything away, leaving behind a Ph?m Tuan who felt lighter and more at peace than ever before.

  The tangled threads constricting his heart loosened at last. His body felt weightless, as though he could walk on clouds. Between the two of them, conversation now came more naturally – laying the first bricks on the long road toward trust.