A heavy silence settled over the house, while the flames in the hearth cast trembling shadows in the dim glow of the room. Yet despite that warm fire, the chill within me would not fade. Tears streamed down my cheeks in silent beads, and the deep longing gnawing at my heart tightened around my soul like a vice.

  Then Arwa’s voice broke through, carrying all the tenderness of an old and wise woman:

  “Good heavens, my child… why are you weeping? Do not cry, or you shall set me weeping as well. One moment you were enjoying such a fine meal, and the next tears were falling from your eyes. What sorrow weighs so heavily upon you?”

  Her aged hands reached for my face with trembling gentleness. Those hands had seen the many hardships of life, had healed the sick and ushered countless babes into the world. Now they touched me as though I were her own child. There was deep concern in her voice—true motherly compassion.

  The words tangled in my throat. For a moment I could not speak. At last, after a shaky breath, I managed to whisper,

  “I do not know how to explain it… I simply… miss my family. My home.”

  At that, my tears flowed faster still, each one falling like a silent cry. As I sniffed back my breath, images rose before me: the warmth of the home I had left behind, my mother’s smile, my father’s wise and steady gaze. Now everything felt so distant—so cold, so terribly lonely.

  My words pierced Arwa’s heart. Her old eyes filled, and with a deep sigh she drew me into a tight embrace. In that moment she held me as a true mother would—protecting, consoling, sharing the ache within my chest.

  “Oh, my dear child, know that you are not alone. Were your mother and father here, they would be proud of you. They raised a child as precious as a diamond. May the Gods welcome them into Their own home. Tears do not always fall from sorrow; sometimes they fall from longing. Weep, my child—pour out your heart. I am here.”

  Daneel had watched all this in silence. Beneath his stern and rugged manner lay a deep wisdom. With solemn composure, and a faint glimmer of moisture in his eyes, he turned to me and spoke:

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “My father would have said, ‘A man does not cry.’ But I am not my father, lad. Pain is part of being human. Without pain, there would be no sacrifice. Without sacrifice, we would not know love, nor understand the worth of friendship. It is one of the greatest gifts the Gods have given us. Can a man truly be a man without pain?”

  His words took root in the depths of my mind, yet the storm within me would not quiet. A voice stirred inside—calling to me, urging me to cast off the weight of the past. It was Siri’s voice, mechanical yet strangely familiar:

  “Do you wish to be free of your pain? Shall the memory files connected to the past be deleted? Confirm if you wish them erased.”

  I shuddered. If I agreed, the burden within me would vanish at once. My past would dissolve into mist—the faces of my family, their voices, their memories gone. Perhaps I would feel no more pain… but what of the memories? What of the love they had given me? I would not even remember them.

  Was that truly an option?

  As I wrestled with that thought, Daneel spoke again:

  “It has been thirty years since I lost my family. I think of them every day still. My mind wanders more now—I fear that as I grow older I shall forget certain things. But do you know what frightens me most? The thought of forgetting their faces. My family may be gone, but the memories we shared remain with me as long as I live. So remember the good days you had with yours. And if it brings you comfort, you may think of us as part of your family. Do not forget—we are always beside you.”

  His words etched themselves into me. The softness of his heart, hidden behind his hardened exterior, was laid bare. In that moment, I made my decision.

  “Siri, whatever may come, I shall walk this road with my pain. I do not wish my memory erased. Show me the happiest moments I shared with my family. And remember—one day I shall be reunited with them, and you will record that moment too.”

  Within seconds, a cascade of images unfolded in my mind—a silent slideshow from infancy to the present. My family’s laughter. My father’s hand resting upon my shoulder. My mother’s warm embrace. Tears still clung to my lashes, but now they carried a different weight—a quiet peace.

  I embraced Arwa once more, my eyes thanking her without words. She smiled and gently rested her hands upon my shoulders, stroking them as though soothing a child.

  “I do not know what to say… thank you,” I murmured softly. In that moment, it was all that needed to be said.

  As the darkness of night slowly descended, the comforting glow of the fire wrapped around me. Yes, I was far from my family—but I was not alone. A new path lay before me: adventures awaiting, knowledge to be gained, friends yet to be met.

  But above all, I knew that one day I would return to my family.

  And when that day came, I would tell them everything.

  For now, it was time to accept the new life stretching out before me.

  Once more, I gazed into the flames of the hearth, and with a quiet sense of peace, I closed my eyes.