Who I Am? Where Do I Belong?

The small hut was alive with the crackle of fire and the faint sizzle of cooking. Ethan stood by the stove, sleeves rolled up, his movements precise and quick as he handled the ingredients with practiced ease.

The smell of herbs and spices filled the air, a warm contrast to the cool mountain wind whispering outside.

At the dining table, Elias leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he sighed in satisfaction. For once, he wasn't the one in charge of the cooking, and he was relishing the rare opportunity to relax.

"Now, this is how life should be," he said, his voice tinged with lazy amusement. "I've been cooking for fifty years, and here you are, Ethan, taking over my role without complaint. You've no idea how happy that makes me."