His mother's image gave a small, weary laugh—one that held no real humor, only exhaustion.
"Now you can see the reason why we thought like that," she said, waving her hand lazily in the air, as if brushing away invisible dust, "but anyway... it was just an excuse."
Her voice softened even more, the weight behind her words almost too much to bear.
"We were tired, Alex. Tired of fighting battles no one could see. Tired of planning, calculating, living every day, thinking one wrong move would doom everything. We just… wanted to rest."
Alex swallowed thickly, throat burning, but no tears came anymore. His body was numb.
"So don't beat yourself over it," she whispered. "As I said before, it isn't your fault that it happened. The world... no, the universe itself is cruel."
Her gaze lingered for a moment, filled with all the love and regret she could no longer show in person. Then, with a faint shake of her head, she straightened herself, her voice becoming brisk again—business-like.
