The sun cast long shadows over the Green family's estate as George sat on the balcony, his eyes scanning the letter Mariana had sent from the small world. It wasn't her usual message—it was longer, almost poetic.
"If the wind brushes your cheek, it's because I whispered your name. I am not there, George, but my heart walks beside you."
His fingers trembled slightly as he folded the paper. He missed her. Deeply. But he had learned to channel that longing into something greater: action. With his grandparents' guidance, he had expanded Mary's foundation and launched new programs in Silvercity—education, orphan care, scholarships. It was growing, just like him.
Meanwhile, whispers of his success traveled far. At the university, professors praised him. In the community, people began referring to him as "the young guardian," a title that made his heart swell with quiet pride.
Yet at night, when all was silent, he'd lie awake staring at the stars, wondering where Mariana was and whether she was safe.
"She believed in me when I couldn't even breathe," he once told Lucia, who just smiled softly and hugged him.
"You've become the man your mother dreamed of," she whispered.
Far away, in a golden forest with twin moons above, Mariana smiled as her system projected George's latest photo—him giving a speech, tall and proud.
"I'll return soon," she murmured. "You're almost ready."
She pressed her hand to her heart. Somewhere, across the cosmos, the bond between them pulsed—alive and unbroken.