Prologue: Whispers of Longing, Echoes of Hope
"My dreams are coming true, Dada." Rory's voice, usually a vibrant melody, was hushed, reverent, as if afraid to shatter the fragile beauty of the moment. He held the photograph, a tangible piece of his yearning, close to his chest.
Rhys, his Dada, looked at his youngest son, his heart overflowing with a tender affection. He smiled, a warm, reassuring expression, before pressing a gentle kiss on Rory's forehead, a silent blessing. "I'm happy for you, son." He saw the soft, almost ethereal glow in Rory's eyes, a reflection of the hope that had taken root and was now blossoming.