It's You, My Sister

"Hannah…? It's you, my sister!"

We both burst out into laughter, a sound of pure relief and happiness that I didn't know I had been holding in for so long. The tension in my chest unravels in an instant, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like I can breathe again.

But then, just as we're both grinning like fools, one of the staff members comes over, looking at us both with a curious expression. He glances from Blen to me and then back at Blen with a raised eyebrow.

"Hannah? Isn't she your lost sister?" the man asks, his voice tinged with surprise.

Blen nods, still staring at me in disbelief. 

"Yeah, I can't believe my sister is…." His voice trails off, and he can't finish his sentence, the words stuck somewhere in the sudden overwhelming emotion.

The staff member, clearly taken aback, smiles broadly. His face lights up with excitement as he claps his hands together, a loud, joyful sound that echoes through the room.

"Wow, this is amazing," the staff member says, his voice filled with genuine excitement. He looks over at Blen with a kind smile. "Go right now to your family with your sister. I'll take care of the front from now on."

Blen's face softens as he nods, a warm, grateful expression settling in. "Thank you," he says sincerely, his voice full of appreciation.

"Of course," the man replies, giving Blen a playful shove. "You took care of the front for like three days when I found my family. Go and have some family time now. I can handle things here."

Blen gives him a quick grin before turning to me. With a twinkle in his eyes, he jokingly pats me on the shoulder, a gesture so familiar, it almost feels like nothing's changed. This is his thing—turning the most serious moments into something lighter, something a little more bearable.

"So, you made your way here finally, sis?" Blen says, his voice teasing but I can see the glimmer of tears threatening to spill over. It's like he's trying to keep it together, but the joy of seeing me after all this time is too much to contain.

I smile, nodding slowly, trying to hold back my own tears. I can feel them at the edge of my eyes, threatening to fall but not yet.

So they were all here waiting for me, I think. All this time, while I was out there at that factory building, they were waiting.

Blen and I step out of the building, and as we walk through the open space, I take in the surroundings. The refugee center feels bigger than I expected—organized, but still with a sense of transient imperfection. The buildings in the back are old, their brick walls worn from time, but they've been kept up, a strange balance of weathered yet maintained.

"The refugee place is better than I expected," I remark, my voice quiet as I take it all in.

Blen glances over at me and chuckles. 

"Yeah, thankfully," he says, his eyes scanning the path ahead as we walk. "So, how did you stay until now? I mean, after everything—what kept you going?"

I shrug, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. 

"God led me to meet really good people and I stayed with them up until now. I'll tell you all once we meet our family," I say, my voice firm but gentle. "I don't want to repeat the story right now. Not yet."

Blen gives a short nod of understanding, his expression softening. He knows how much I've been through. We both do.

As we near the third row of buildings, I can feel the weight of the moment settling deeper into my chest. Blen opens the door to a building on the far end, and we begin our climb up a long, winding staircase. The stairs creak under our feet as we move, but it doesn't matter. With each step, my heart beats faster in anticipation.

When we finally reach the third floor and Blen opens the door to the room, I'm struck by the warmth and comfort that greets us. The room is cozy, filled with the sound of quiet conversation and the smell of food. As the door creaks open, I catch sight of my family gathered around the table, a simple meal spread out before them. It's a moment that feels too surreal to be real. They look just like I remember, but there's something about seeing them all together in this new place that makes it feel like the world has shifted.

"Mom!!! Grandma!!! Dad!!! Zech! Ellen!" I shout, my voice rising in disbelief and joy. 

My heart swells at the sight of them all, and I can't help the tears that finally spill over.

The moment they hear my voice, my family stands up, their faces lighting up with shock and awe. They are all there—my mom, my grandma, my dad, Zech, and Ellen. Even my eldest brother and his wife, who I haven't seen in so long, are there. It's more than I could've ever dreamed of.

"Hannah!!! Hannah!!!" 

They all cry in unison, rushing toward me with open arms. My heart flutters as I feel their warmth surround me.

Mom and Grandma are the first to reach me. They wrap their arms around me tightly, their embraces so full of love, I feel like I'm home again. The weight of all the months of separation, of pain, of longing, seems to melt away in their arms. I cling to them, tears streaming down my face as I whisper their names, my voice thick with emotion.

Dad stands behind them, his hands clapping together in astonishment, a proud smile spreading across his face. He's beaming, but he's also in awe, as if he can't quite believe that after all this time, we've finally found each other.

Zech and Ellen are right there too, their faces a mix of disbelief and joy. Zech pulls me into a hug, squeezing me tightly, while Ellen wraps her arms around me, her eyes shining with tears.

It's like everything I've been fighting for, everything I've dreamed of, has finally come true. I'm here, with my family again. The journey that felt so uncertain, so full of fear and isolation, has led me back to the people who have always been my anchor.

"I can't believe it," I whisper, my voice barely audible through the tears. "I thought I lost you all."

Mom pulls back slightly to look me in the eyes, her hands on my shoulders, her face etched with both pain and relief. 

"We never stopped looking for you, Hannah. We never stopped hoping."

I nod, unable to say more, because there are no words big enough for this moment. But in that silence, I feel it all. The years of separation, the fear, the pain—it's all worth it now. Because I'm finally home.

The room is drenched in a quiet stillness, the kind that only late nights bring. The clock, hanging on the wall opposite the window, ticks relentlessly toward midnight, each second seeming to drag on. 11:58 p.m. It's nearly time to sleep, and Julian feels the familiar heaviness in his eyelids, a sign his body has long come to recognize.

Time to sleep, Julian thinks, the thought feeling almost like a ritual. 

Slowly, he slides open the guardian bed from beneath, the mechanism moving with a soft whir as if it's used to his movements by now. He glances over at Grace, lying still in her coma, a quiet figure bathed in the pale moonlight filtering through the window.

She looks so peaceful, so serene despite the absence of conscious thought. There's an odd blend of emotions in Julian's chest. A strange discomfort, and yet, a sense of relief. He wonders, as he always does, if she's dreaming—if in some corner of her mind, she's still there with him.

"Grace... so you're in a good dream right now, right?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, as though not wanting to disturb the delicate calm of the moment.

A faint smile tugs at his lips, bittersweet, before he lies down on the soft bed, pulling the blanket up around his body. The fabric is cool at first, but soon it warms to his touch. The silence of the room, mixed with the distant hum of the city outside the window, settles around him.

Julian closes his eyes slowly, letting the familiar weight of sleep press down on him. The guardian bed has become a second home to him over the weeks, no longer strange or uncomfortable. He no longer feels the awkwardness of lying here, next to Grace, as he had in the beginning. It's almost as though he belongs, at least in this moment.

But just as he's starting to drift, the silence is broken.

The door creaks open, a quiet intrusion that cuts through the air like a knife. A voice, unfamiliar and low, rings through the room.

"Who… are you?"