The wind begins to hum, filling the air with an earthly ambience that embraces the cold. The sky comes alive with a gushing sound as the clouds race faster than ever before. The bright snow twirls with the breeze, enveloping the entire sky in a pure white blanket reminiscent of frozen milk. The heavens open up, showering the land with snowflakes, falling gently like a tender rain.

     As time passes, the orange-yellowish sunlight breaks through the dense, white clouds, penetrating them like a solid block. Sunrays find their way through a window, gently illuminating an ink jar perched on a wooden table inside a room. A serene moment of peace fills every corner within the grand mansion, only interrupted by the whistling wind outside. No other sound interrupts the tranquillity except for the ongoing snowfall.

     The room within the calming confines of the grand mansion boasts red floral damask around the walls, with dark chocolate-like wooden panelling covering half of them. Shelves brimming with heavy books line the sides, resembling vast oceans of knowledge. Two vases of blooming plants, their fiery violet flowers shining, adorn the doorway, adding a touch of vibrancy.

     Nevertheless, all remains quiet and still except for the blizzard-like wind outside. The snow blankets the sky, partially blocking the window. Slowly, the intensity of the snowfall subsides, revealing the snow-covered street below and allowing more afternoon sunlight to enter.

     Engrossed in his thoughts, Frederick sits in the room, diligently capturing his musings within the pages of his journal. A quill pen dips its point into the ink jar, ready to inscribe its mark. It begins to swirl across the pages of a small handheld book.

     Frederick wears ordinary black trousers and shoes, contrasting the crispness of his white top and navy vest. A pair of circular-framed eyeglasses rests on his nose, indicating his intent focus as he silently commits his thoughts to paper. With his chin resting on his left palm, his writing hand continues the steady ink flow onto the page, leaving behind a trail of inked expressions.

"Within a parent's love, forever it thrives, but a truth weighs heavy as mortality arrives," he penned, the echo of his voice resounding in his mind. "For soon I'll depart from this earthly plane, yet my cherished heir, my inheritance shall attain..."

     A subtle numbness licks Frederick's back, a persistent reminder of his seated posture. Sensing the need for relief, he stretches his spine, momentarily relinquishing the quill, allowing his body to find respite. His eyes, weary from the written world, yearn for a moment of reprieve, prompting him to scratch his heavy eyelids, seeking solace in their gentle touch.

     Frederick sighs, burdened by the weight of his stress. He cannot suppress the ensuing yawn but shields it behind a cupped hand, making a modest attempt to mask his exhaustion. His gaze shifts to the left, where his eyes fixate on the view beyond the window.

     Frederick's gaze flies across the neighbourhood painted in white snow, shimmering like scattered fragments of light. The stately mansions stand in quiet solitude, with their doors and windows closed. Above, the sky gathers its strength, preparing to release another flurry as the air grows clearer. In the front yard, the pathway that once connected the gateway to the house is concealed beneath a mound of snow, erasing any trace of its existence.

     The wintry landscape, spreading across the snow-covered street, brings a sense of ease to Frederick's weary eyes. His mind feels lighter, free from the burdens of stress. He gazes at the roads, finding only emptiness and stillness. As he is about to turn from the window, a movement catches his attention, drawing his focus back to the vast outdoors.

     Surprised, Frederick gasps, covering his mouth with a palm. His pupils widen, and the weight on his mind dissipates like a feather carried away by the wind. Frederick rises from his seat, hurled by a bright smile that spreads across his face. Without hesitation, he dashes out of the room, driven by the firm desire to greet someone.

     Frederick bolts down the stairs, bounding from step to step, with each hop infused with hope for every passing second. He leaps down the final few steps and reaches the lobby. As he arrives on the ground floor, basking in the warm golden glow of the chandelier above, he hastens towards the entrance, where a maid holds the door open.

     The entrance widens, and light surges into the hall, beaming into every corner. Then, Oliver and his companions pass through the doorway. As Oliver marches forward, sunlight forms a golden halo behind him—as if he has descended from heaven with divine authority.

     While sprinting, Frederick stretches his arms wide open. He then leaps forward, enfolding his adoptive son and embracing him. Frederick's eyes well up, tears almost spilling over, as he holds Oliver tightly, cherishing the precious reunion.

"Oliver!"

"Dad!"

     Oliver gently brushes Frederick's hair, then pulls his adoptive father closer to his body. As they embrace, they can feel the warmth of their connection radiating from their core. They tighten their grip, allowing their hearts to touch each other.

"Dad! I missed—"

"I missed you," Frederick said, staring into Oliver's eyes.

"Oh..." Oliver tightened his embrace, burying his face in Frederick's shoulder. "I missed you, too," he whispered.