Episode 2: Two Paths Begin

The quiet hum of the ceiling fan filled Arya’s room as she folded the last of her sketchbooks into her suitcase. Her fingers brushed over the worn leather cover of one in particular her favorite, filled with unfinished stories and quick drawings of characters she’d imagined late at night. For a moment, she hesitated. Leaving behind her comfort zone, her friends, her country it all felt heavier now that the moment was real.

Her mother stood silently in the doorway, watching her daughter tuck away the last pieces of home. “Arya,” her voice softened, though it carried a firm edge, “you’re really going.”

Arya looked up with a small smile. “Yes, Ma. It’s a chance I can’t waste. I’ll be working on my novels there, and...maybe I’ll find something new.”

Her mother stepped closer, her sari brushing lightly against the suitcase as she sat on the edge of the bed. “I know this is important for you. But Russia is far, and their ways are not ours. If something bad happens, don’t try to be strong alone. Do not stay there and suffer, do you understand?” She reached out, holding Arya’s hand tightly. "Come back quickly. Home will always wait for you."

Arya’s throat tightened at her mother’s words. She nodded, hiding her emotions with a playful grin. “I promise, Ma. I’ll come back. But don’t be surprised if I return with more stories than you can handle.”

Her mother laughed softly, brushing away the tear that threatened to fall from Arya’s cheek. “That’s my daughter. Always chasing stories.”

Across the world, in Russia, a different conversation was unfolding.

Adrian Mealid leaned against the tall window of his office, the skyline of the city stretching endlessly before him. His phone buzzed again the third call from his grandfather that day. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he picked it up.

“Adrian,” came the deep, commanding voice of his grandfather, leaving no room for argument, “you will return home immediately.”

Adrian’s brows furrowed. “Why? I have unfinished work here. What is so urgent?”

“You don’t need to question me,” the old man replied firmly. “Family matters require your presence. It is time you start taking responsibility.”

Something in his tone made Adrian pause. His grandfather was not a man to explain his decisions, and refusal was not an option. Still, confusion weighed heavily on him. What could possibly be so important?

“Yes, Grandfather,” he finally said, his voice cool, though his mind burned with questions.

When the call ended, Adrian set the phone down on the desk, staring at the dark glass of the window. Responsibility, his grandfather had said. The words echoed inside him, unsettling. He was used to pressure, to expectations, but this time felt different. As if a decision had already been made for him.

And somewhere between the packing of a suitcase in Bangladesh and the commanding voice of a Russian patriarch, two lives were being drawn onto the same path without either of them knowing.

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