12 years

Xiao waited for a response from Epiphany, but seeing none, he decided to tone down his excitement. He glanced around his room, searching for something else to occupy his mind.

It was only five in the evening, and he had an hour before he needed to start preparing dinner. His father would likely be working late again; Fridays were usually his busiest days.

Sighing, Xiao decided to browse through his music playlist. Music had been his lifeline since his mother passed away. He scrolled through his mega playlist of over 700 songs, spanning nearly every genre.

Finally, he settled on an artist whose songs had recently been a comforting presence in his life.

He set the song to play on his speakers and decided to clean his room. He liked to keep things in order. Slowly, he made his bed, replacing the sheets and pillow covers.

The bedding was a deep blue, his favorite color, and patterned with constellations, reminding him of the summer nights spent stargazing on the roof with his mother. They used to count stars and make up stories about distant galaxies. 

As he smoothed out the sheets, the faint smell of dust tickled his nose.

He moved on to dusting his bedside desk, which was cluttered with small mementos: an old toy robot his father had given him, a collection of postcards from places he dreamt of visiting, and a warmly framed photo of his mother smiling. 

She was holding him as a toddler, both of them grinning ear to ear. He picked up the photo, wiping the dust off the glass, and placed it back carefully.

The dim lighting in the room as evening approached cast long shadows on the walls, adding a melancholic touch to his reflections. 

Next, he tackled his study table. The table was an old wooden piece retrofitted with modern materials to add more space. As always, he began by arranging his books.

Over the years, he had amassed a significant collection, and he had read each one at least three times.

His collection included classic literature, science fiction, fantasy, and a few mystery novels. Scattered among them were books in the local language, remnants of his mother's efforts to help him adapt to their new home.

He picked up one of these books, a worn copy of a local fairy tale. His mother used to read it to him every night, her voice soothing and gentle.

She would translate the difficult words, turning each story session into a lesson. He remembered those evenings vividly, sitting on her lap or lying beside her, listening to the rhythmic cadence of her voice.

Xiao continued dusting off his books, pausing occasionally to flip through pages and relive memories. As he worked, he noticed a watch box, an old small orange box decorated with glitter and cute texts, clearly intended for a child.

The sight of it transported him back 12 years.

———

The room was bathed in the warm, golden glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows on the wooden floor. The walls were adorned with old family photos and faded posters, each telling a story of its own.

A large, ornate mirror hung on one wall, reflecting the gentle sway of the lace curtains. In the corner, a birdcage stood adorned by a colorful parrot named Sunny who chattered softly, adding life to the otherwise quiet room.

Grandma was a petite woman with silver hair neatly tied in a bun, and sat in her favorite rocking chair. Her eyes, sharp yet kind, were framed by delicate wrinkles that deepened with every smile.

She wore a lavender dress with tiny floral patterns and a shawl draped over her shoulders. The room smelled faintly of her favorite jasmine tea, a scent that always brought comfort.

Xiao, then a small boy with wide, curious eyes and a mop of unruly black hair, was surrounded by his family. His mother, a graceful woman with a nurturing smile, handed him a beautifully wrapped box. Despite the hardships of the past year, her eyes sparkled with hope as she encouraged her son.

"Open the present, Xiao," she urged gently, her voice soft and reassuring.

Xiao's tiny fingers fumbled with the wrapping paper, tearing it away to reveal an elegant watch. His eyes widened in disbelief and joy. He had never owned something so precious.

His face lit up like the sun. "Wow! Look at this, Sunny!" he exclaimed, rushing to the parrot's cage. "Isn't this the coolest watch ever?"

Sunny tilted his head, ruffling his vibrant feathers, and mimicked, "Coolest watch ever!"

Xiao giggled, running back to his mother. "Thank you, Momma! This is the best gift ever!"

His mother knelt down, hugging him tightly. "Do you like it? Your dad chose it for you. Would you like to call him? He really wanted to be here, but his flight got delayed."

Xiao hesitated for a moment, then nodded eagerly. "Can I? I miss him."

"Of course, darling," she replied, her heart swelling with love. She reached for the phone, dialing his father's number. "He'll be so happy to hear from you."

———

Twelve years later, Xiao stood in the same room, now a young man with a strong jawline and thoughtful eyes. The memories of that day played vividly in his mind as he held the old orange box.

He remembered how she had shown him how to tell time, her patience endless as he struggled with the concept.

Placing the watch back in the box, Xiao closed it gently and set it aside. The music continued to play softly, its soothing notes mingling with the creaking floorboards and the gentle hum of evening settling in.

The room hadn't changed much, still filled with the warmth and love of his childhood. But Sunny was gone, leaving behind an empty cage.

The soft, melancholic notes of "Carry You" by Novo Amor filled the air, matching the bittersweet nostalgia he felt. He glanced at the clock; it was nearly dinner time.

With a deep breath, he placed the box down gently and turned away from the empty cage.

He set up a small but heartfelt meal, knowing his dad wouldn't be back for dinner. For a fleeting moment, he considered treating himself to a small birthday cupcake but dismissed the thought.

Celebrations felt meaningless without his family.

As he sat down to eat, the soft music filled the empty room, a constant reminder of the solitude that had become his norm. For a moment, he wondered if he deserved more if he was worth a little celebration.

But the thought quickly faded, leaving him with the familiar weight of loneliness.

He wasn't worth that much.