Azel had a family.
He knew what a family was.
At least, that's what he always told himself.
In his old life, family had been a flimsy concept, fragile like cracked glass that no one wanted to throw away but everyone was afraid to touch.
His parents had separated when he was young — too young to understand why but old enough to feel the empty space.
His father vanished into another life somewhere beyond his reach, and his mother, no matter how hard she tried, could not fill the void.
His older sister had tried too, in her own way, but the warmth he longed for — the kind you read about in books or saw in shows was something he never truly touched.
So he had done what was easiest.
He had buried himself in games.
Pixels became his world, and the screen his shield.
In that fabricated reality, he could be the hero, the one who belonged.
A place where he could pretend the hollow weight in his chest didn't exist.
But now…
