Efendi sat by the window, watching the city lights slowly fade. In those lights, he saw the roads he had traveled—from the mountains of Kyrgyzstan to the bustling streets of Manhattan, from sunny Spain to quiet evenings in Germany. Yet the most important discovery was not in the miles or the countries, but in the people Allah had sent to cross his path.
He remembered that bridge in New York and the words spoken to a desperate man. Happiness is not in escaping pain, but in accepting life as it is and living it with dignity. Now he understood that he had been saying this not only to that man, but also to himself.
Mary entered the room and quietly placed her hand on his shoulder. In her gaze was everything—trust, tenderness, and the readiness to share any journey with him. Laughter of the children echoed from beyond the door, and he felt it: this was the true fullness of life.
