Chapter 7: A Century Apart, Together

12.

A wind seemed to sweep through the house, carrying with it a hundred years of history from the old era.

It circled my mom’s temples, then brushed across my brow.

For a moment, I saw her as she must have been—a young woman in another life, lost and alone. My mom’s hazel eyes grew even wider, her hands trembling after a long pause.

Her voice shook as well.

“2023? Th-that…?”

I knew what she wanted to ask, and my throat tightened too.

I looked her in the eyes and answered, word by word:

“The country’s still here, and it’s thriving.”

Her shoulders sagged with relief, a trembling smile flickering at the corners of her lips.

13.

My mom was dazed, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes.

She suddenly seized my arms, her face full of urgency and hope.

“The invaders?”

“Gone.”

“Did we win?”

“Yes, we won.”

“Is there still war?”

“No more.”

Big tears rolled from her eyes, falling onto my hands.

They were hot.

I felt my chest grow warm too.

“Is anyone still pushing us around?”

“No, no one dares. Now, they only fear and respect us.”

We sat there together, hands clasped tight, our tears mixing. In that moment, it felt like the weight of a century had lifted, just a little, from both our shoulders.