After they stopped in front of the old man, Kalin felt a faint sting of disappointment. He had hoped for certainty, for a clear sign of his old home, but still… the path was uncertain. Monicha, noticing his hesitation, gently held his hand:
"Calm down, don't worry. I'll find what you're looking for with you. I won't leave you."
The elderly man smiled cautiously, as if something in their eyes reminded him of an important memory.
"Are you looking for a small house…?" he asked, voice trembling slightly.
Kalin's eyes lit up with a spark of hope and curiosity.
"Yes… it's my old home. I want to see it again," he said softly but with determination.
The old man nodded, gesturing behind him.
"I might be able to help you, but the road is long, and the landmarks have changed… not everything is as it used to be."
Monicha whispered to him quietly, "See… sometimes answers come from where you least expect them."
For the first time in a long while, Kalin felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps this man held the key to his sister, perhaps to the memories of his past… and maybe even to the home he had lost.
Kalin sat beside Monicha in the car, staring out the window as the streets passed quickly. The sounds of cars and pedestrians mixed with soft music, while the golden light of sunset streaked across their faces.
"Don't worry, we'll find your old home… not everything can just disappear," Monicha said, keeping her hands steady on the wheel.
She glanced at him from time to time, her smile warm, but her eyes carried experience and caution. Kalin took a deep breath, trying to shake off the disappointment weighing on his heart.
"I feel like we're close… but everything looks unfamiliar," he murmured.
They asked several people along the way, but no one knew. Every stop increased his tension and anticipation.
"Don't worry, I have a feeling we'll reach it soon… focus with me," Monicha whispered.
An elderly man suddenly appeared on the sidewalk, his eyes holding a kind of ancient wisdom.
"Are you looking for something?" he asked, voice calm but piercing.
Kalin felt a strange familiarity, as if the road itself was guiding him.
"Yes… it's my old home, I want to see it again," he said confidently, despite previous disappointment.
The man gestured toward a narrow side street.
"The road is long, but you might find what you're looking for there… I cannot promise, but this is the beginning."
Kalin's heart beat with a different feeling now—not just searching, not just waiting, but hope.
They continued driving, passing narrow alleys and wider streets, asking passersby. No one remembered. Still, Kalin felt as if something lay hidden among the buildings and tangled alleys.
Finally, they stopped in front of a partially deserted narrow street. Old buildings surrounded them, windows broken, dust covering the walls.
"Is… is this the place?" Kalin whispered, voice shaky.
Monicha looked at him and said calmly, "It might be… prepare yourself. You'll only know when you get closer."
Kalin stepped forward slowly, each step heavy with a mix of fear, hope, and longing. Each door, each window whispered fragments of the past. Every balcony, every wall spoke of days when he felt safe with his family—before separation, before loss.
Finally, he reached the old door. It matched the image in his mind perfectly. His heart raced, hand trembling slightly as he touched the handle.
"This… this is… my old home," he whispered, tears threatening to spill.
Monicha waved vigorously from afar through the window, her voice cutting clearly through the air."
"Look, we've arrived… you're here now. Everything else, we'll handle together."
Kalin stepped forward, each motion bringing memories flooding back—lost safety, long-forgotten moments, a childhood almost erased.
And then… the shock.
The door was slightly open. In his hand, Kalin held a single rose wrapped in red. His clothes were neat and elegant, as if he had prepared himself for this moment. The sense of awe and longing struck him all at once.
For the first time in years, he felt truly connected—not just to a house, but to a piece of himself he thought was gone forever.
"And he talks to himself, kalin, at this very moment."
"Mom?" he called out, his voice trembling slightly. A few seconds later, he shouted, "Dad! I'm Kalin!" His words echoed through every corner of the empty house, bouncing off the walls, lingering in the cold, silent air.
From the room ahead, a terrifying, loud sound erupted — strange, chaotic, almost alive — sending a shiver down his spine and making his heart pound faster as he stood frozen, staring at the door.
"As he stepped into the empty house, kalin whispered to himself, his thoughts swirling like the dust in the silent halls, each corner echoing with memories he could barely grasp… and then, from a distant room filled with a cacophony of voices and laughter, a sound reached his ears, breaking the stillness and making his heart beat faster."
Karl stood for a moment at the entrance of the room, breathing slowly, trying to calm his heart that was pounding violently in his chest. The silence of the empty house around him made every step feel heavy, every whisper to himself echoing off the cold walls.
"Why… why does everything feel so different?" Kalin muttered in a low voice, as if speaking to both the past and the present at once. "I expected to find the quiet of home, my memories, a familiar place… but nothing looks the way I remembered."
He took one step after another, his eyes scanning every corner and every shadow. Then, suddenly, a burst of sounds erupted from the distant room: loud laughter, joyful shouts, footsteps on the wooden floors, the clinking of cups or dishes? All of it mixed with the sound of the wind sneaking through the slightly open window.
Kalin froze, a sudden wave of astonishment and curiosity filling his heart. "Who's there?" he whispered to himself, his eyes wide with a mixture of caution, worry, and wonder.
He moved closer, each step like a note on a delicate string in his chest, each sound from that room increasing his curiosity. Then he noticed a movement, a shadow flitting in the corner, seemingly waiting for him to notice.
"Could it… be… someone?" Kalin muttered, his voice almost caught in his throat, his eyes alert, his ears capturing every beat, every breath, every sound in the room. His feelings were a mix of fear, longing, and hope — emotions he hadn't felt in a long time, not since the childhood days that had vanished in the fog of lost memories.
The room was no longer distant, yet he didn't dare enter just yet. Everything around him — the silence of the house, the loud noises, the sunset light streaming through the windows — had become a tangled canvas, a picture trying to tell him something important, something waiting for him in those sounds, in those laughs he hadn't heard for years.
And in the moment he gathered all his courage, he raised his hand toward the door, deciding to take a step into the room, a single step that could break the silence, reveal the secret, and perhaps bring back a piece of the past he had lost…