New-York, August 2027
Soham, 33, had a quiet energy. Her eyes shone with curiosity and steady confidence. As a journalist, she pursued truth with discipline and honesty.
Sitting in a worn leather armchair in her small apartment, she stared at an old photo on the wall, a memory from 2005. Her father’s gaze always drew her in—still, mysterious, like two stars in a restless sky. She loved and admired him. As a child, she felt both awe and fear toward this passionate man, whose anger could inspire or intimidate. His activism consumed him and often pulled him away from his family. He was both a guide and a mystery. He gave her strength but also left a quiet wound.
His absences, caused by struggles or dangerous commitments, left her feeling both abandoned and fascinated. She cherished the rare tender moments, when he spoke of his battles with a spark in his eyes. Those brief moments had sparked her own love of truth. His passion and commitment to justice had shaped her path, showing her that standing for what is right requires sacrifice.
In the photo, his worn face contrasted with the rare softness of his smile—a moment frozen in time. In a tense and divided society, that image reminded her of both his causes and the pain of his absence.
A fly landed on Soham’s cheek. She didn’t move, lost in thought. Her pale skin revealed sleepless nights. The phone rang again and again. She stayed still, eyes fixed on the photo. At last, she picked up.
“Yes?”
“Soham, you can come this afternoon. Everything’s ready.”
“Alright, thanks. Give me a few days.”
Her eyes stayed on the photo, where the fly had landed, as if challenging her father’s image. On impulse, she grabbed a pencil and threw it. It missed the fly, which flew away. A faint smile crossed her face—a flicker of life. That small act of defiance reignited the strength her father had passed on. She stood up, ready to move forward, carrying their complex but essential bond.