Six months after the chaos, Jay and Liam's home was filled with laughter. Lucas, the adorable six-month-old baby, sat on the floor surrounded by colorful toys. His tiny hands reached for a toy, his wide smile radiating delight and joy.
Jay sat on the sofa, watching his son with a soft smile. "Look at him—he can hold his toys on his own now," he said, chuckling softly.
Liam sat beside Jay, holding a small camera to capture the adorable moments. "Can't believe six months have passed. He's grown a little, but still just as cute as before," he said, eyes sparkling as Lucas kicked his little feet in laughter.
Levant sat nearby, smiling and clapping at the baby's antics. "He knows if you make a funny noise, he'll laugh. Looks like Lucas already has a sense of humor," he said warmly.
Lucas turned toward Liam, his big eyes shining. He clapped his hands and made a small sound that made Jay and Liam laugh.
"He really knows how to make us laugh," Jay said softly, ruffling Lucas's hair.
Liam smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of the baby's head. "He came into this world safely, and now we can all just enjoy this moment. No more danger, no more missions—just us and Lucas."
Levant held out another toy, showing it to Lucas. Lucas giggled, pushing the toy toward Jay. They all laughed together, the room filled with warmth and affection.
"He seems like he wants to talk," Liam joked, watching the baby try to grab Jay's hair while laughing.
Jay stifled a laugh, gently patting Lucas. "Don't pull papa's hair, Lucas. Papa can't take the pain," he said, smiling.
That simple moment felt so precious. Every laugh, every smile from the baby seemed to erase the shadows of their past, filled with loss and danger. Lucas became the glue that brought them together, allowing them to enjoy a peace they had never truly known before.
Levant leaned closer, watching the baby with a warm smile. "Lucas really is the center of attention. Everyone's happy watching him."
Jay looked at Liam, his smile soft and full of love. "See that? This is the reward after everything we went through."
Lucas clapped again, this time turning toward Levant, letting out a charming little laugh that melted everyone's hearts. They all laughed together, letting time slip slowly, celebrating the peace, love, and simple joy that only a little baby could create.
And in their hearts, even though the world outside remained full of challenges, that moment felt eternal—Lucas, his smile, and the warmth of family and friends around them.
---
Eric sat by the window, gazing at the quiet night outside. The city lights twinkled in the distance, feeling far removed from the world they had just endured. His hands wrapped around a cup of coffee, yet his mind wandered. Everything that had happened—the loss of Carl, Clara's betrayal, the suffering they endured—remained fresh in his memory. The pain had not faded; if anything, it deepened each time he reminded himself of those he loved and those who had been taken without a goodbye.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a long breath. "Sometimes…" he whispered softly, "the morals in every mission… aren't just about winning or losing. It's about what you're willing to lose, and what you still hold onto when everything falls apart."
He lingered in thought, imagining Carl's smile, his courage, and his sacrifice, which had become a burden Eric still carried. The sadness gripped him, yet he knew he had to keep moving, even with a heart so deeply wounded.
---
Noah sat across from Caryn, eyes searching hers. The quiet of the hospital lounge made every word feel heavier. "Caryn… you weren't involved in what happened with Clara and Ferom 9, right? With Carl… your younger brother?" Noah asked carefully, full of caution.
Caryn looked down briefly, swallowing hard. "No… I left that house a long time ago. Since I was 18, I chose my own path. I'm an Alpha… so I make my own decisions. I've been distant from my siblings, and I had no connection to them."
Noah nodded slowly, waiting for her to continue.
"Carl… he's my brother. But I never imagined Clara could be that cruel. I… I felt so much pain when I heard he died. And… I never really cared before, so when all this happened, the guilt came crashing in. I never thought she could be that merciless," Caryn said, her eyes glistening, voice steady but raw.
Noah gave a small smile, patting her shoulder gently. "I understand… but you're not alone now. We have each other. And we'll make sure no more loss goes in vain."
Caryn lowered her gaze, exhaling slowly. "Yes… I just want this to end. I just… want to live in peace, without losing anyone else."
They sat in silence for a moment, letting the quiet absorb their feelings. No grand words, just acknowledgment and understanding between two people who had both experienced loss, grief, and trauma.
---
Eric stood on the balcony, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of orange and purple. The sea breeze carried a fresh, slightly cool scent that was soothing. In his heart, the loss still lingered—Carl, everything that had happened, heavy. But for the first time in a long while, he felt a small relief.
He drew a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs, and a faint smile formed on his lips. Few knew what he had been through, few had seen the internal battle he fought alone. But now, he allowed himself a little release.
"Eric," a familiar voice called from behind, and he turned. It was Levant, his old friend who had always been there. "Look…" Levant pointed toward the sea, where several small boats moved across the water—a reminder that the world kept turning, life still existed.
Eric smiled faintly. "Yes… life still moves on." He looked down briefly, letting the setting sun calm his mind. "I think… I can start again. Not perfectly, but I can try."
On the small balcony table sat a cup of hot coffee—a small gift from Levant to ease their night. Eric sat, staring at it, and each sip seemed to give him a little new strength.
He thought of Lucas, the little six-month-old baby. That child brought laughter, light, and a sense of wonder that Eric had almost forgotten existed in a world full of conflict. Occasionally, he smiled, imagining the baby's face, the tiny giggles that could melt even the hardest hearts.
Eric exhaled slowly, and this time, there was no pressure, no betrayal—just peace coming gradually. He learned an important truth: even when loss is real, the world still offers space for happiness. Sometimes, it comes in small, simple forms—but enough to give hope.
He raised his coffee cup, a broader smile now on his lips. "To new beginnings," he whispered, and the night seemed to answer with a soft breeze. That evening, on the balcony with the sea wind and the orange sky, Eric felt a calm he had long sought—slowly, life regained its color, even though the scars remained.