Rift of time

Previously

…That memory, too, was a bittersweet ache, a reminder of the life he had left behind. The celebrations, the drumming, the dancing – it all felt distant, a world away from the quiet longing that consumed him. He saw the joy in Gin’s eyes, the comfort she found in the familiar rhythm of her people, and it was a balm, but not a cure. He was among them, accepted, even cherished, but the echo of Sun-jin’s song, the faint scent of cherry blossoms, the imagined weight of his son in his arms – these were the melodies that played on repeat in the chambers of his soul. He was home, in a sense, but his true home remained a universe away, a memory he clung to with the tenacity of a drowning man.