The old woman’s breath hitched, a shallow, rattling sound that echoed the frantic beating of her daughter’s heart. In her frail hand, clenched so tightly her knuckles were white, she held a faded, yellowed piece of paper. Twenty years. Twenty years since her Leo had vanished, leaving behind only this letter.
Her eyes, clouded with age and the approaching darkness, flickered towards her daughter, Maya, who sat beside her, her hand resting gently on her mother’s. Her husband, David, stood at the foot of the bed, his face etched with a quiet grief that had become a permanent fixture over the years.
The letter. It had arrived a week after Leo’s disappearance. A childish scrawl, yet filled with a fantastical tale that had both broken and, in a strange way, sustained her.
Dearest Mama, it had begun. Please don’t worry. I’m okay. More than okay, actually. I’ve been… isekai’d. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. I’m in another world, a world of magic and adventure.
Then came the list, the unbelievable, almost comical list of his newfound abilities:
Purify: This makes everything better! My skills get stronger faster, items become amazing, even people feel healthier around me.
XP Bonuses: Leveling up is super quick here! I’m getting stronger every day.
Invincible Buffs & Passives: I heal really fast, and it’s almost impossible for me to get seriously hurt. Think super-powered healing and being practically untouchable.
Teleportation: I can go anywhere, instantly!
Invisible Magical Space: I have this secret pocket dimension where I can keep anything safe and sound. It’s really handy!
The letter had continued, the youthful exuberance clashing starkly with the devastating reality of his absence.
But Mama, he’d written, his tone shifting to a somber note. My only weakness here… it’s you, Papa, and Maya. The thought of anything happening to my family back home… it would cripple me. I need to be strong here, and I can only be truly strong knowing you are safe, far away from any danger I might attract in this world.
A lump formed in her throat even now, twenty years later. He thought he was protecting them.
So, I’ve put a spell on this letter. If you ever feel like you’re in real danger, Mama, just destroy this. Tear it, burn it, anything. I’ll know instantly, and I’ll come back to you. No matter what.
The final lines were etched into her memory, a bittersweet balm on an unhealing wound. I will always keep all of you in my heart. Always.
Twenty years. Twenty years of an ache that never truly dulled. Her husband had thrown himself into his work, finding solace in routine. Maya had grown into a strong, independent woman, her laughter a melody that sometimes felt like a cruel reminder of the missing harmony in their lives. And she… she had simply endured.
Every day, a litany of worries would play in her mind. Had he found friends? Was he happy? Did they have good food in his isekai world? Did he remember to say “please” and “thank you”? Had he forgotten the bedtime stories she used to tell him?
But amidst the worry, a tiny seed of pride would sprout. She would imagine him, her Leo, wielding his Purify skill, making his corner of that other world a better place. She would picture him, strong and almost invincible, facing down fantastical beasts, the fate of that world resting on his young shoulders. A mother’s heart, she knew, could hold both immense sorrow and boundless pride for her child, no matter the circumstances.
There were times, especially in the quiet evenings, when she would stare out of the window, lost in thought, her gaze fixed on some distant, unseen horizon. In those moments, she wasn't just a grieving mother; she was the mother of a hero, a silent guardian of another realm.
Now, on her deathbed, the letter felt like an extension of herself. It was the last tangible link to her son, a promise whispered across dimensions. Her breathing grew shallower, each inhale a struggle. Maya’s grip tightened on her hand, tears silently tracing paths down her cheeks.
Her last breath escaped her lips, a gentle sigh that carried with it all the unspoken love and worry of two decades. Her hand, still clutching the letter, went limp.
Maya gently pried the letter from her mother’s grasp. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the fragile paper. She read the familiar words, the childish handwriting a ghost of the brother she barely remembered. A wave of understanding washed over her. Her mother hadn't destroyed the letter, not even at the very end. She had carried the burden of his absence, the weight of his promise, but she had never asked him to return.
Maybe she was also afraid it was all a lie.
With a decisive movement, born not of anger, but of a fierce protectiveness for the memory of her mother and a strange, belated understanding of her brother’s sacrifice, Maya walked to the small fireplace in the room. The flames danced merrily, oblivious to the gravity of the moment.
She held the letter over the fire for a moment, the yellowed paper fluttering slightly in the warmth. Then, with a resolute nod, she let it go. The flames licked at the edges, hungrily consuming the ink and the paper, turning two decades of longing and a fantastical promise into a wisp of smoke that curled upwards and vanished into the air.
Her brother, wherever he was, would now know. And perhaps, Maya thought, that was for the best. Her mother had finally found peace, and her brother, in his distant world, could come back whenever he wanted.
