A new year dawned, and with it, a new life for Egemed. Yet, the absence of his beloved friend weighed silently on him. He had learned that some things are never meant to stay, but love—true love, the bonds that pierce the heart—remained, eternal. Unlike many who let time bury memory, Egemed would never forget. He carried his friend as if he had merely departed on a long journey.
Each day, he held onto a quiet hope: if not in this life, perhaps the next would bring them together again. This belief helped him accept that he should not grieve endlessly.
And so, he moved forward, carrying both grief and resolve. There was work to do—the construction of the building he had begun. No one remained to hear his sorrow, but he would endure it in silence, just as his friend had borne his own suffering alone.
...
The day hung in suspended silence. Sunlight slanted through the window, casting long, golden shafts across Egemed's room, dust motes drifting lazily in the warm beams. The only sound was the delicate scratch of pen on paper, a fragile rhythm in the stillness. On the desk, a photograph of his lost friend caught the light—a frozen smile amid the soft shadows, a whisper of a past that lingered like a ghost in the quiet room. Outside, the world moved on oblivious, but inside, time seemed to pause, holding its breath with him.
His mother entered, her steps soft, almost reverent, and paused behind him.
"Are you writing a new book?" she asked in a whisper, careful not to break the quiet.
Egemed smiled without looking up. "Yes, mother."
She picked up the photograph, her smile tinged with sorrow. The image captured a moment—him and Jerelr, laughing, faces alight with joy.
"It must have hurt you, Egemed," she said softly.
He turned to her, taking the photo gently. His voice trembled as he spoke. "I… I am okay now, mother. We cannot stop what is meant to happen."
"Hmm," she murmured.
Not wanting her worry to linger, he shifted the conversation, his voice brightening. "Mother, I'm writing about the friendship of two friends. I changed their names, but it is… true, inspired by real life."
Her brow furrowed slightly. "So… it's you and Jerelr?"
He nodded. "Yes. I want this friendship to feel alive, even when I am gone."
"But your friend…" she hesitated. "He died."
Egemed swallowed, his throat tight. "I will give it a happy ending. They will… they will marry on the same day," he murmured, voice heavy with longing.
"Are you all right?" she asked, reaching out to brush his cheek.
He leaned into her hand, hugging her tightly. "I am. I am happy that you are always here when I need you."
"You'll get used to it," she said softly. "You were very close, but that was never wrong."
"Hmm," he replied.
"Your father and I will always be here for you," she added.
"Your hug makes everything easier," Egemed said. "Mother… did you and Father ever quarrel when we were small?"
She chuckled. "Yes… sometimes."
"Did you love him?"
"I did," she said simply.
"Will you visit his grave every day when he leaves us?"
She laughed softly. "Stop it, Egemed. I will not answer that."
"I was just wondering… how love works," he said.
"Why do you ask?"
"I want to write a love story about you and Father too," he said, smiling.
She laughed, playfully striking his shoulder. "You can write that after you finish the story of your friend."
Egemed released the hug, sitting straight. "All right. That will do."
His mother nodded, walking back slowly, patting the room as if leaving a blessing.
He rose, taking the broom from her hand. "I'll do it. You can rest now."
She tried to reclaim it, but he insisted so, she sat on his bed.
"Mother… do you know? Six years ago, Jerelr gave me a letter. He wrote that when it rains, he will bring me an umbrella. If he has only one, we will share it."
Her eyes widened. "What does that mean?"
"That he would always be there, whenever I needed him," he whispered.
"And…?"
"And I realized he is not the only one. You and Father… you both are umbrellas too," he said, a faint smile softening his face.
She smiled, leaning against his pillow.
Later, after putting the broom outside, he returned to find his mother asleep.
Gently, he covered her with a blanket, thinking: 'How could I forget my parents, who are always here for me? I should love them as deeply as I loved Jerelr.'
He closed the door softly and stepped out.
---
Before sunset, Egemed went to the Valley of Breath. Since his friend's death, he had avoided it, but today he returned alone.
He stood in the quiet, eyes closed, wind tangling his hair. A deep, serene peace washed over him, yet his heart ached as memories replayed.
A single tear traced his cheek. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his own heartbeat. The laughter and joy he had shared with Jerelr were gone, yet they lived on in memory, alive with each visit to this valley.
He hummed the song they had sung when descending from the Valley of Breath.
A smile touched his lips.
'You are not here, yet our memories remain. I am grateful I met you. Even now, I would never say I wish we had never met.'
The memories surged within him, and Egemed could no longer contain them. A soft, heartfelt whisper escaped his lips:
"Jerelr."
...
Returning home, he waited for his father beneath the cold night sky. When his father arrived, weary from work, Egemed rushed to him silently, taking the bag from his hands.
Standing in the dining room, he said calmly, "Father, tomorrow I will go with you to the city."
"I will be very happy having you with me," his father replied.
Egemed smiled, watching him settle in the chair. "Why don't you go to the company only two or three times a week?. I can go the rest, you are tired father."
His father shook his head. "But it is my responsibility to go every day."
"Then teach me how, so I can do it as you do. You can rest with mother," he said.
"Are you sure? You said you cannot even calculate math," his father teased.
Egemed laughed softly. "But I can clip and pin your papers, remember?"
His father chuckled, "Ah, yes. It has been so long. You still remember that?"
Egemed smiled, "How could I forget? That's how much you worried and loved me, even when my thesis was rejected three times. Even now, right Father?"
"Hmm", his father replied
Egemed sat beside his father, leaning his head gently on his shoulder.
His voice was calm, caring, and steady. "Father… you're getting old. I've started my own company. You'll see what I can accomplish this year."
"But first… let me help you. I'll go three times a week, and you go twice. Brother Rada will help me the rest."
His father's eyes softened. "If that is what you wish, I will allow it."
"Ah! I'm so glad you agreed, Father," Egemed said, smiling warmly.