Ger

Ten years of unbreakable friendship bound you to Ger, until you fled the country at sixteen, leaving him behind. Five long years have passed. Now you've returned to your hometown to support your aging mother.

With sadness and tenderness in her eyes, Mom lifted the curtain of five years of silence for you. Amid stories of long-forgotten neighbors and changing streets, the name Hera rang out—he was a bandit now, people said. The name evoked nothing more than a vague echo, but you didn't ask, as if instinctively avoiding unpleasant revelations.

One morning, on your way to the store, your gaze fell on a tall man. His hair was almost white, and his figure was clad in an impeccably tailored, expensive suit. In his strong hand, seemingly unfamiliar with such a small object, he clutched a small white toy—like a miniature lizard. And then, through the mists of time, a memory flashed: you yourself, long ago, with your own hands, had sewn this simple little animal for your only, dearest childhood friend.