A young woman with a bob haircut stood on the threshold, radiating a strange combination of tenderness and strength. She was very thin, with a pale face, but despite this, her expression was truly happy, as if she had managed to forget about all the cares of the world. A certain lightness was visible in her eyes, and a soft smile played on her lips.
Jerome froze, his eyes wide, and he instinctively flinched back. It wasn't Delia. Who was this woman? He flushed to the roots of his hair, his heart pounding as his gaze met hers, light and unobtrusive. He didn't know what to think. He'd expected to see a familiar face, a familiar smile, but instead there stood a stranger.
The woman ignored his confusion. She didn't even blink, showed no sign of surprise. Her gaze was clear, almost emotionless. She said something in French, something Jerome didn't understand, and it made him feel uneasy. French was not the language he expected to hear spoken by the person he was about to meet.
"What does this mean?" flashed through my mind.
He tried to say something, but the words stuck in his throat, unable to find a way out. The woman laughed - not a sinister laugh, but a simple, lively one, as if she were enjoying her own game. And then, at the most unexpected moment, without warning, she slammed the door in his face.
Jerome stood there, his eyes wide and confused. It took him a moment to process what had just happened, and he still seemed to be in disbelief. He turned, trying to process what had just happened, and walked slowly toward the gate. Questions were all that were running through his head. Who was this woman? Why was she in Delia's house? And why did she do this?
Jerome's heart continued to beat in unison with his footsteps as he wandered down the street. His thoughts were in a tangle. He was wondering about what she had said. Or hadn't said? It was unlikely that it had. But somehow she felt so sure of herself right away, as if Jerome was not someone she wanted to meet. As if he didn't belong here.
"Why couldn't I understand her? Why couldn't I talk to her? Why didn't I ask who she was?" these questions haunted him.
He walked down the road, feeling his mood slowly worsening. All he wanted was to meet Delia, and now the only question in his head was who the hell this woman was.
He stopped suddenly, leaning against one of the pillars, and remembered how he had recently thought that everything would be different. Everything had gone wrong. Delia, the watch, this unexpected visit - everything had gotten mixed up, like some absurd dream. Jerome felt that his plan had been destroyed like sand castles, and now he had to find answers. But most importantly: was there any point in changing anything at all, or was the world around him simply throwing up unanswered questions?
He returned to the gate of the house again, standing in front of it and wondering whether he should continue to search for an answer or whether it would be better to go back and start everything from the beginning. His thoughts were confused, and he could not get rid of that strange visit of a strange woman. When he came to his senses and decided to return to Delia's house, the door suddenly opened again.
Karen, Delia's mother, appeared on the threshold. She saw Jerome and frowned. Such a puzzled expression appeared on her face that the boy immediately felt his heart beat faster. It seemed that she could not believe her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Karen asked sternly, but her voice sounded more concerned than angry.
Jerome sighed and, a little embarrassed, asked the question that had been tormenting him since the morning:
"Can I come in?"
Karen looked at him silently. Her face showed hesitation. She could say no, she could make him leave, but something was holding her back. Finally, she sighed and, opening the door slightly, nodded.
"You can... But..." she didn't finish, her gaze was still wary.
Jerome felt a little awkward, but he stepped into the house anyway. He crossed the threshold and found himself in a familiar hallway, where the smell of freshly baked goods and floral aromas had not changed since the last time he was here. He was already prepared to hear unpleasant questions from Karen, but instead his gaze immediately fell on Delia.
She was standing in front of the mirror, holding a book under her arm, and her attention was focused on some text she was reading. Jerome didn't immediately realize what to do. He froze in place, and his legs seemed to refuse to move any further. He was at a loss, his heart began to beat even faster from embarrassment. He didn't know how to behave in such a situation at all. With each passing second, it became more and more difficult for him to find words.
But then Delia turned and her face lit up with a broad smile, so warm and affectionate that all his worries immediately disappeared. She stepped toward him and, not hiding her joy, said:
"I've been waiting for you so much, Jerome! I couldn't wait! You can't imagine how happy I am to see you!"
Her eyes were shining and her voice was full of genuine joy. Jerome felt his heart leap. He smiled back and said:
"I'm very glad to see you too, Delia."
At that moment, Delia's father, who had been standing to the side all this time and watching their meeting with interest, approached them. The man was short, slightly unshaven, and had a warm look. He looked at Jerome with a fatherly attention, but at the same time he held back a smile.
"Well, well, what an unexpected guest," he said, bowing his head slightly. "And what are you doing here, boy?"
Delia, who did not have time to answer Jerome, immediately interrupted her father, answering with the same enthusiasm as before:
"Oh, Dad, I'd like to introduce him to you! This is Jerome, he's a good friend of mine, and I thought it would be great if he met you!"
Jerome froze in place, realizing that he was part of some surprise that Delia was preparing. He looked at her with confusion, but her face was so genuinely happy that he couldn't help but smile back. Now he understood: all this time she had been preparing for him to meet his parents, and this was her special way of showing how much their friendship meant to her.
Delia's father nodded as if he understood and stepped forward, extending his hand to Jerome.
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Jerome. Deedle has told me a lot about you," he said good-naturedly, and there was not a shadow of doubt or displeasure in his voice.
Jerome shook hands with Delia's father, a little nervously. He felt better with each passing moment, because the atmosphere in the house was warm and friendly.
"Nice to meet you," he replied with a smile.
At this point, Karen, Delia's mother, came over from the next room, noticing that they had been joined. She, too, looked happy, a soft smile lighting up her face.
"Oh, you've come, Jerome!" she said, holding out her arms to him. "We're so glad to see you. Deedle's been saying all morning that you'd definitely come."
Jerome felt a little embarrassed, but he couldn't help but notice how genuinely warmly they greeted him. It was something completely new to him - a family that so genuinely cared about his presence.
"Thank you," Jerome said, returning Karen's smile. "I'm glad to be here, too."
"Well then," Delia's father intervened, "let's go into the living room, perhaps, or we're all standing here like we're not used to it. Delia, are you coming with us? Or are you going to show Jerome his place?"
Delia, beaming, led him deeper into the house, showing him where they usually sat, and her parents followed them, already anticipating what this day would bring them.
As Jerome and Delia settled into the cozy living room, the atmosphere felt truly homey. The soft light from the table lamp, the blanket thrown over the chair, and the smell of freshly baked bread from the kitchen created an atmosphere of comfort and peace. Jerome looked around and noticed how the light played on the books on the shelves and the pictures on the walls.
But soon his gaze returned to Delia, who was sitting next to him. She was wearing an unusually bright dress with floral patterns, and her face was shining with joy. In her hands she held a book that seemed to be something especially important to her. Jerome could not help but ask a question.
"Delia," he said carefully, "you seem especially cheerful and dressed up today. And what kind of book is that?"
He asked and immediately blushed a little, feeling that maybe it was too personal a question. But Delia wasn't offended. She smiled and looked at him with as much sincere kindness as she could.
"Oh, Jerome! You have no idea!" she cried. "Today is my birthday! I'm eight years old!"
Jerome didn't understand right away. He remembered Delia saying that her birthday would be later, and now he felt a little awkward. He didn't know that her birthday was on that day. Remembering this, he looked at her with an apologetic gesture.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know! Happy birthday to you!" he said, smiling.
Delia just laughed in response and shook her head.
"Don't worry! I'm not offended at all," she said. "In fact, I've wanted you to come to my birthday party for a long time, but it just so happened that you came now. Don't worry, everything is fine!"
At that moment, Gene, Delia's father, came up to them and said with a smile:
"And you know, Jerome, the book she's holding is a gift from our guests, the Jehovah's Witnesses. They were here yesterday, and Karen gave them a letter from Katherine, her sister and Deedle's great-aunt."
Jerome was slightly surprised but said nothing, watching as Delia proudly held up the book to show it to her.
"This is the Book of Light!" she said, smiling happily and holding the book closer to Jerome.
The cover of the book did indeed feature a bright illustration - a beam of light piercing dark clouds, and words written in golden letters. Jerome looked closely at the cover and even touched the book.
"This... looks very beautiful. I've never seen a book like this," he said, looking at it in surprise.
Delia, without taking her eyes off the book, continued:
"Yes! This is exactly what I always wanted! She will tell me about light, about what is important, and about how to be kind."
She turned the book over and began showing Jerome the pages, which had bright pictures and large-print text. Jerome noticed that Delia was genuinely excited about this gift.
"Your books are so interesting," he said with interest. "I'd like to read something like that, too. Maybe I could borrow it?"
Delia looked at Jerome with slight doubt.
"Maybe someday," she said, smiling. "But first, I need to study it myself. It's a very important book."
At that moment, Karen entered the room with a cup of tea, and her soft smile immediately endeared Jerome.
"Well, guys," she said warmly, "it's tea time. Come into the kitchen, and we'll celebrate Delia's birthday! We still have a little surprise for you, Jerome."
The boy raised his eyebrows in surprise, but before he could ask what kind of surprise it was, he was already at the table, with a cup of tea in his hands. Everything was so unusual and new to him: Delia's house, her joy, the gift and the attention she was giving him. Jerome felt like he was in some kind of dream, where everything was especially good and warm.
The dining room was warm and cozy. Karen had already set out hot tea and a few small treats. The porcelain cups glittered on the gray table, and the smell of freshly baked goods filled the air. Jerome settled down next to Delia, her bright eyes meeting his, and despite all his worries, he felt calmer than ever.
Gene, Delia's father, sat at the other end of the table, leaning against the back of his chair. He was a man of solid bearing, always reserved and attentive, but becoming more quiet with each passing year, despite his turbulent career. He picked up his teacup and took a sip, deciding to chat for a while.
"I want everyone to know that I have a friend in Washington," Gene began, looking up. "He works for the CIA, and, let's just say, he knows everything that's going on in the world. Everything."
Jerome blinked a few times, not quite understanding what Gene meant, and after a second, unable to resist asking:
"If it's the CIA, then it's James Bond?"
Delia laughed immediately, her laughter light and clear, like music. Karen smiled, and Gene seemed a little surprised, but soon smiled too.
"Oh, no, Jerome," Gene answered with a good grin. "He's not James Bond. My friend is an ordinary government official who does investigations and analysis, and does not save the world from villains. He knows almost everything about people, about what is happening in different parts of the world, but, believe me, he does not look like a superhero at all."
Jerome thought for a moment, then gave in to curiosity again and asked:
"So if he knows everything, can't you ask him for something? Like, find out everything about anyone?"
Delia giggled and Karen shook her head, apparently not expecting the conversation to take this turn. Gene smiled and raised his hand, as if to limit their questions.
"No, Jerome," he said with a smile. "We can't just ask him to find out something. The CIA is not just like that. Everything has its limits, its rules. And even if this friend knows about many things, he can't always tell you something.
Jerome seemed to hang his head a little disappointed. But he noticed again how Delia's eyes were full of the same interest that had been in him when he had first asked about James Bond. This all seemed like a real adventure, a piece of life that he and Delia were just beginning to explore.
"I always thought the CIA was very secret," Delia said, looking up at her father, "but it's still interesting that you have a friend there. Maybe you could introduce us to him?"
Gene laughed a little, but there was a hint of pride in his voice:
"Maybe someday. But first, I want you to learn how important it is to respect other people's boundaries, Delia. Even if this friend helps me, he still lives his own life, and no matter how interesting it is, he doesn't share all his secrets with us."
Gene continued to tell the story with enthusiasm, delving into details, as if it were not just a memory, but part of a large and exciting story. Karen and Delia listened to him with interest, and Jerome could not help but succumb to curiosity. He always thought that adults, like Gene, lived in some other world, full of secrets and adventures that he did not even suspect.
"My friend, Earl Knight," Gene said, slightly bowing his head and choosing his words carefully, "is a man of character and a unique view of the world. He is no longer young, but still full of energy. Imagine if you met him, you would immediately understand that this man knows something that others cannot understand. He did not strive for high positions, does not chase titles. He still works for the CIA, but for 20 years in the same position. He is not interested in a career, he just likes to do his job. And believe me, he does it at the highest level.
Jerome nodded with interest, imagining this old spy who could have become the presidential secretary, but at the same time did not aspire to such a high position.
"It's like a superhero without a suit, right?" he asked, trying to add some lightness to the conversation.
Karen laughed and Delia, sitting opposite her, smirked.
"Most likely, yes," Gene replied, not noticing the joke. "Only this superhero doesn't actually save the world from villains. He works in the shadows, but his job is much more complex and important. He controls the flow of information, monitors events in different parts of the world, and does it in such a way that no one notices how he does it."
Delia sighed softly, as if she was interested, but at the same time she was a little embarrassed that in their house they were talking about such a big world full of secrets. Jerome thought about it too: it all seemed too complicated to him, too far from his everyday life, full of friends and carefree games.
"Does he ever talk about what's going on in Washington?" Delia asked, playing with the end of her braid and not taking her eyes off her father.
Gene smiled as if it was a question that wasn't easy to answer.
"Earl is not the type of person to share personal information. We go for a beer together, and of course we chat, but only about simple things. He doesn't want to talk about what happens at work. He respects his profession and understands that his words may be used in ways he doesn't want. He often jokes that it's much more interesting to watch people create their own stories than to tell their own. But despite this, he always leaves the feeling that he knows much more than others tell him."
Jerome didn't know what to say to that. He had visions of spies hidden from everyone, who knew how the world worked. He thought Earl Knight must be one of those people who could reveal secrets and then keep quiet because everything was already clear.
"You remember me telling you about this man, Karen?" Gene turned to his wife, smiling. "We often meet when I'm in Washington. He's the one who can talk about a world that's so far away from us, but at the same time, his every look, his every word has meaning. He's an unusual man.
Jerome thought about it, but his mind was still filled with images of spies and secrets he didn't even know about. He was glad that there were so many people here in Delia's house who weren't shy about discussing even such serious things. And despite all this talk about high matters, he still wanted to go back to something simple, like just talking to Delia about how they played together in the park or sat in the living room laughing at nothing.
"And how is he, your friend Earl?" Jerome finally asked, trying to sum up the whole conversation. "Is he happy?"
Gene paused for a moment, considering the question.
"He's... more like peaceful," he said finally. "Sometimes happiness isn't what's on the surface. It's when you can do your thing without worrying about anyone judging you. And Earl knows how to be happy that way. He has no desire for fame or recognition. He just lives the way he wants to live."
The boy became more and more puzzled with every word about Earl Knight. There was so much talk of spies, the CIA, and covert operations-it seemed like it was beyond the scope of a normal day at Delia's house. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and asked,
"Wait," he said, tilting his head. "Why are you telling me about some friend from the CIA on Delia's birthday?"
Gene looked at him with slight surprise, but then smiled, as if he himself had not noticed how he had gone beyond the bounds of ordinary conversation.
"Oh," he said, laughing, "he gave her the most interesting present. You won't believe it, but Earl Knight has thought up a surprise for her that she will never forget, namely, a cruise on the Atlantic Ocean.
Jerome raised his eyebrows in confusion. He had expected to hear something about a book or a toy, but a cruise? For an eight-year-old girl?
"Wait, a cruise?" he asked. "Are you serious?"
Delia, sitting next to him, was beaming with pleasure, her eyes sparkling and her smile so wide it seemed almost permanent.
"Yes, a cruise," she confirmed, not hiding her joy. "Daddy's friend arranged with his bosses for me to get a ticket for a cruise to Civitavecchia, and from there to Rome!"
Jerome was taken aback. He hadn't expected that answer at all. It sounded like something out of a spy movie, not a gift for a girl her age.
"To Rome?!" he repeated in amazement.
"Yes, and not just like that," the girl continued. "I'm going to the capital of Italy on a special mission. And there, you know, I'll play an important role in a secret operation. It's part of the case that was entrusted to Earl Knight."
Jerome looked at Delia, confused, but she just grinned back, as if everything was perfectly normal, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of pride and excitement, as if she really was part of some great plan.
"Are you serious?" Jerome asked, unsure how to take this. "You're going to do some secret thing?"
Delia nodded with such a serious expression that Jerome almost believed that she was actually ready to become part of the big spy world.
"Yeah," she said, slowing down a bit. "It's like a little game, but with real people and real adventures. Dad said that, from what Earl said, it's not just a vacation, it's a real adventure. We're going to have a lot of fun! But I can't tell you everything - those are the rules.
Gene chuckled and added:
"Of course, Deedle probably won't actually 'work' as a spy. It's more of a training project. But who knows? She'll be right in the middle of it. You'll see," he turned to his daughter. "This is a big deal, and you don't want to have to wait a few more years to get into places like that, do you?"
Karen, sitting next to him, listened silently, her face calm, but there was something in her eyes that spoke of her calm confidence in what was happening. Jerome noticed how she pursed her lips, as if she was deciding something important for herself.
"It's going to be a wonderful trip, Deedle," she said softly. "You should remember it for the rest of your life."
Jerome, still stunned by what was happening, couldn't believe these words. He didn't know what to think. Everything seemed so unreal, and at the same time - fascinating. Secret operations, cruises, Rome... This was absolutely not what he usually thought of when he thought about adventures.
"How does this even happen?" he asked, trying to understand. "You're just going to go there with Earl Knight? And do something?"
Delia laughed as if the question was too naive.
"No, of course not," she replied. "We'll go with other people, but they'll all be part of the same operation. I'll be doing... well, different things. I can't talk about everything, because it's a secret. But I think you'll find out someday. When you grow up, you'll be offered something interesting, too."
Jerome nodded silently. It all seemed too complicated, too big and important for his little world. But deep down he went back to that strange woman in the blue dress who, not long before he had entered this house, had met him at the threshold and closed the door in front of him. Why had she spoken to him in French? And who was that woman anyway?
Before he could fully immerse himself in his thoughts, the door to the dining room suddenly swung open and the same woman appeared on the threshold, but now she was dressed not in a blue dress, but in a brown formal suit consisting of a jacket and trousers. She looked as confident as before, and her bob haircut, which gave her a severe look, remained unchanged. She entered the dining room with easy grace, as if her appearance left no doubt that she was completely at home there.
Jerome looked up and noticed that the woman had approached Gene, but now she was no longer speaking French, as she had when she met the boy, but English, and without any accent.
"Delia's bags are all packed," she said to Gene. "Now the girl should get dressed and come with me to the Manhattan harbor. There we will board a cruise ship that is heading to Europe."
Jerome froze in place. Everything that was happening sounded so strange that he didn't even want to believe it. He quickly looked around at everyone present, trying to understand how they were reacting to this woman's words. Delia looked absolutely calm, her eyes sparkled with interest, as if she was anticipating something important.
"Wait," Jerome breathed, unable to contain himself. "Why are you even talking about this? Where is Delia going? And who are you?" He addressed the last question directly to the woman.
The woman, ignoring his questions, continued as if she had not noticed his surprise.
"Everything is ready," she continued, turning to Delia. "You must hurry. We cannot be late for the ship."
Delia nodded, standing up from the table. Jerome still couldn't believe what was happening.
"Wait," he said again, turning to Gene. "Why is she talking about this as if it were something normal? Aren't you going to explain to me what's going on?"
Gene put down his spoon, looked at Jerome and smiled slightly, as if this had all been planned in advance.
"Jerome," he said softly, "it's not quite what you think. This woman is a private agent sent here by my friend Earl Knight. She's accompanying Deedle on her journey. And what you've heard is her job. She's organizing this trip.
Jerome felt his fingers tighten around the edge of the table. Everything he had just heard was starting to add up to something completely unbelievable. He tried to figure out what was going on, but the more he thought about it, the less logical it became.
"But... this is all too strange!" Jerome almost shouted. "She spoke to me in French, and now everything is so serious and formal?"
The woman standing at the door looked at Jerome again and smiled slightly, her face remaining as calm as before.
"We use different languages for different purposes," she said, softly but with authority. "When you meet people you don't know, it's important to be prepared sometimes. You can't always speak the same language."
Jerome thought, looking at her. This explanation did not clarify anything, but he felt that it was impossible to get everything he wanted to know from this woman. Everything in her behavior and speech indicated that she knew exactly how to manage the situation and how to leave people in the dark.
Delia, meanwhile, was already getting dressed, and Jerome realized that he might not have time to find out the answers to all his questions if he did not act quickly. He approached her and quietly asked:
"Delia, are you sure this is all safe? You're going with this lady, and... what's the deal with this?"
Delia turned and met his gaze. Her smile was calm, but there was a deep determination in her eyes that Jerome couldn't understand.
"Yes, Jerome, I'm sure. It's just a trip. And maybe even an adventure. But don't worry, everything will be fine."
The woman in the brown suit, noticing their conversation, walked up to Delia and gently placed her hand on her shoulder.
"It's time to go," she said. "We have to go to the ship."
Jerome stood there, unsure of what to do. His mind was wandering again, searching for an answer, but he still couldn't figure out what was going on in Delia's house. Why was it all so strange and mysterious?
The next moment he realized that Delia might leave and he might never see her again. Something inside him snapped, and this feeling became so strong that without thinking he rushed to the girl, took her hand and, looking into her eyes, said that he could not let her go.
"I don't want you to go alone," he said, his voice shaking with tension. "You can't stay with that woman, I want to be with you. I'll be with you until the end, I promise."
All the adults in the room, as if by agreement, began to laugh or exchange glances as if they had heard something completely absurd. Gene, Delia's father, curled his lips as if he could not believe his ears.
"Jerome," he said in amazement, "are you crazy? You don't even know who you want to go with. This isn't a game, this is a real operation, not an adventure tour of Europe! You have to understand that you're not ready for this.
Karen, Delia's mother, leaned across the table and shook her head.
"It's too late, Jerome. This is not just a trip. Your age has no room for such adventures. You do not understand the seriousness of it."
But at that moment, Delia, who had been silently observing the whole situation, finally spoke up. Her face lit up with a small, mysterious smile. She calmly raised her hand and looked at her parents, as if reassuring them that everything was okay.
"Dad, Mom," she said, her voice soft but firm, "this is my secret operation, and I want Jerome with me. It's my birthday, and I get to choose how I spend it. And I want him there."
Gene and Karen fell silent for a moment, their eyes intertwined as if they were trying to figure out what to do next. It was as if their daughter had made a statement they couldn't brush aside, and they couldn't just say no.
"But, Deedle, it's dangerous," Gene muttered, though his voice no longer held the same confidence it had once held. "Don't you understand what kind of operation this is?"
Delia narrowed her eyes slightly and turned her head towards Jerome, looking him in the eyes again, her smile more confident than ever.
"I understand," she replied. "I understand everything, but this is my decision. I want Jerome to be with me. He's my friend. And I want him to be with me."
The silence in the room became almost unbearable. Gene and Karen looked at each other, and in their eyes you could read that they knew that if Delia had decided this, then it was almost impossible to change her mind. And Jerome, standing next to her, felt his heart squeeze with excitement. This was a real adventure, and he was going to be a part of it.
"Okay," Gene finally said, sighing. "If that's how you want it, then so be it. But you have to understand that this isn't just a stroll through the city. You're taking responsibility, and so is Jerome. He has to be ready for anything."
Karen nodded, though with some reluctance. She still wasn't thrilled with the idea, but she saw something in Delia's eyes, a determination that couldn't be beat.
Jerome felt a sense of importance growing inside him. He hadn't been prepared for this to be so serious, but it didn't matter to him. What mattered was that Delia trusted him. And he couldn't let her down.
"Thank you," he said, quietly but confidently. "I'll be there for you. I promise."
The woman in the brown suit, who had been standing to the side watching the proceedings, finally intervened.
"We're wasting time," she said, her voice quiet but full of authority. "The bags are packed, and we need to get going."
Delia nodded, stood up and walked over to Jerome.
"Come on," she said, as if they were already familiar with this place and this moment. "We'll make the ship in time."
Jerome felt his heart beat faster. This moment was important, a turning point. He didn't yet know what was waiting for him ahead, but he was ready to go through everything for the sake of being with Delia.
Jerome, Delia, and the woman with the suitcase, who he still couldn't quite figure out, were heading out of the house. They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing through the hall, and Jerome felt the tension in the air grow with each step. It was as if the world around him had slowed down, and every sound was louder.
As they approached the door, Jerome glanced over his shoulder. He saw Karen sitting on the couch, wiping away tears, and the sight touched him more than he would have expected. Delia's mother was crying quietly, her shoulders shaking slightly with hidden grief.
"She's letting her daughter go... into danger," Jerome thought, squeezing his hand next to Delia's, as if trying to convey to her at least some of the support that Karen seemed unable to give.
"Mom..." Delia called, turning to her. Her voice was soft but firm. "Don't worry. I'll do everything right. You know I'm not alone."
Karen looked up at her daughter, her face full of pain and unspoken words, but she nodded. For a moment she seemed to have trouble speaking, but then she walked over to Delia, hugged her, and whispered softly,
"Deedle, darling, I... I just don't know... what's going to happen next."
"Everything will be fine, Mom," Delia answered confidently, hugging her back tightly. "This is just a part of my life that I need to get through. You will always be there, even if there is a great distance between us."
Jerome, standing nearby, felt his breathing become difficult. He stood aside, knowing that this was a moment in which there should be no interference. It was between mother and daughter, between farewell and a new beginning.
Karen pulled back, her eyes wet, and she took a deep breath, as if gathering her strength.
"Please come back safe and sound," she said, wiping away her tears again. "And don't forget... you're my daughter."
Delia nodded again and smiled tenderly as she said,
"I will always remember. And you too."
With that, Delia walked toward the door without turning around, Jerome following her. The woman with the suitcase passed quietly, as if she understood that this was an important moment for Delia's family. She only nodded slightly in respect and continued on her way, not interfering with the feelings that were in the room.