In His Absence

Three years later – Earth.

The apartment was small, barely enough for two people, yet it now housed three.

Morning sunlight crept through the half-drawn curtains, painting golden lines across the worn floor. Aria Feng knelt in front of a tiny girl, no older than three, as she zipped up the child's pink jacket. The girl blinked sleepily, clutching a frayed stuffed rabbit with one arm.

"Be good at home, okay?" Aria whispered softly, brushing a strand of hair behind the girl's ear.

The child nodded, not saying a word—just burying her face into Aria's shoulder as if sensing her mother's looming departure.

"I'll be back before sunset," Aria said, her voice almost breaking. She kissed the girl's forehead, lingering there for a moment, drawing strength she no longer had the luxury of showing. Then, she stood up, straightened her coat, and turned toward the other girl in the room.

Xia Feng—barely eighteen, clad in a hoodie two sizes too big—gave a small nod. "I got it."

"I've packed her lunch. Her favorite's on top. She's still afraid of loud noises, so keep the window closed if traffic gets bad." She spoke quickly, avoiding her sister's eyes.

Xia rolled her eyes slightly. "I know, Sister. This isn't the first time."

"I'll send you what I can by the weekend. Sorry for—"

"You don't have to apologize every time," Xia cut her off, her voice sharper than she meant it to be. "You're the one working your ass off."

Aria's lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. "Still…"

She knelt one last time, cupped the little girl's cheeks, and whispered, "Mama loves you. So, so much."

With one final glance, Aria turned and walked out the door. The sound of her heels faded down the corridor like the slow ticking of a clock. Final. Heavy.

Xia stood there in silence, watching the closed door. The apartment felt colder now.

She turned toward the child, who sat quietly on the couch, still holding the rabbit, eyes wide and lost.

With a sigh, Xia muttered, "You better grow up smart. This world's not kind."

She made her way to the window and watched the street below. Aria's figure was already gone in the crowd.

Every time her sister left like this—shouldering everything alone—resentment rose in her chest like bile.

She hated the man who had done this to her. Whoever he was.

She clenched her fists. "Bastard."

But then the memories came back. The desperate days when Aria had searched every corner for news of him. The files. The military report.

Killed in action during a classified mission.

Dead.

That truth always struck like a cold slap. It silenced the curses on her tongue and turned them into a bitter sigh.

"Maybe it was just bad luck," she murmured, resting her forehead against the glass. "Maybe that's all this life is. A cruel joke."

Behind her, the child giggled softly at something on TV. Innocent. Unaware of the weight pressing down on the world around her.

And yet, she was still here.Still breathing.Still waiting.

She tore her eyes from the window, shoulders tense. The silence gnawed at her, louder than any argument.

She had offered to work. God knows, she wanted to help.

But Aria had been firm.

"No, Xia. You stay home. Study if you can. Help me with her. That's all I ask. Daycare is expensive and strangers don't care the way we do. I can't trust anyone else with her. Please."

And so Xia stayed.Not because she was wants to. But because family love made you compromise.

She sat down beside the child, brushing a crumb off the girl's cheek. The little one looked up and smiled, wide and pure.

Xia smiled back, but faintly.Not the kind of smile that reaches the heart—just the kind you wear to convince yourself you're okay.

"Let's survive today," she whispered, more to herself than anyone.