The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, highlighting the boy's room as he slowly opened his eyes. Staring at the ceiling for a brief moment, he sat up in bed. His gaze fell on the poster in front of him, and a faint smile crept across his face.

He stood up, stretched, and made his way downstairs to the dining room, a simple space where the kitchen blended seamlessly with the table. His mother stood near the stove, busy cooking, while his father sat at the table, silently eating his breakfast.

As soon as the boy entered, his mother glanced at him. "Did you brush?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied casually, heading toward the dining table.

Without a word, his father abruptly stood up, leaving his breakfast unfinished. His mother noticed but said nothing, continuing her work. The boy watched as his father walked away, poured himself a glass of water, and drank it without acknowledging anyone.

"He's gone. You can sit now," his mother said softly, turning back to her cooking.

The boy didn't respond. He had no intention of sitting at the table for breakfast; he had only come to get a glass of water.

By the time he finished breakfast, his father announced, "I'm going to work," directing the words only to his wife. He didn't glance at his son, nor did he say anything to him With that, he left the house.

The boy returned to his room, put on his uniform, and grabbed his bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he picked up his headset and headed downstairs. Sitting on the last step, he slipped on his shoes and stood up, ready to leave.

At that moment, his mother appeared, standing in front of him with a warm expression. She came closer, her smile gentle but sincere. "Please have a good day," she said softly. "And try to smile. Always smile."

She smiled warmly, and with her two fingers, she lightly touched his lips, curving them into a smile.

The boy nodded slightly, her gesture lingering in his mind as he opened the door and stepped out into the world.