Seven years had passed since the family had lost Arlen. The years had softened the sharp edges of grief, but the void he left behind lingered, like a shadow in the corners of their lives. In that time, Theo had grown into a bright and determined young man, his energy a stark contrast to the quietness that often filled their home.

  The morning was quiet, the kind of stillness that made the sound of the kettle whistling seem almost too loud. Marie stood at the stove, carefully stirring a pot of oatmeal. She glanced over her shoulder at Theo, who was lounging at the kitchen table, scribbling notes into a journal.

  “You’ve barely touched your breakfast,” Marie said, her tone light but insistent. She set down the wooden spoon and turned to him, hands on her hips. “How are you supposed to grow strong if you don’t eat properly?”

  Theo looked up, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m already taller than you, Mom. Maybe I don’t need the oatmeal.” He gestured toward the bowl with mock disdain.

  Marie narrowed her eyes but smiled despite herself. “Taller, yes. But not smarter. Oatmeal is good for the brain, you know.” She walked over and nudged the bowl closer to him. “Eat.”

  Theo sighed dramatically but picked up his spoon. “Fine, fine. But only because I’m scared of you.”

  “That’s right,” Marie said, tapping his shoulder playfully. She sat down across from him, watching as he ate. For a moment, the room was filled with the quiet clink of the spoon against the bowl. Then, her expression softened, and her voice lowered. “You’ve been working so hard, Theo. I just… I don’t want you to overdo it.”

  He paused mid-bite, looking up at her. “I’m fine, Mom. Really. I like working hard. Besides,” he added with a smirk, “someone’s got to make you proud.”

  Marie’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes clouding with a mix of pride and sadness. “You already make me proud, Theo. Every single day. But you don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders, you know. You’re still my little boy.”

  Theo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Little? I’m fourteen now. Not exactly a kid anymore.”

  “You’ll always be my kid,” Marie said firmly. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “Even when you’re off at the academy.”

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  At the mention of the academy, Theo’s expression shifted. He set his spoon down and met her gaze. “You’ll be okay, won’t you? When I leave?”

  Marie hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her apron. “Of course I will. You don’t have to worry about me.” She reached out and placed a hand over his. “But it’s going to be awfully quiet around here without you.”

  “I’ll visit,” Theo said quickly. “And write. I promise.”

  Marie nodded, her smile returning but tinged with a hint of melancholy. “You’d better. Otherwise, I’ll come to the academy myself and drag you back home.”

  Theo chuckled, the sound warm and full of affection. “I’d like to see you try.”

  Their laughter filled the room, momentarily easing the bittersweet undercurrent of the conversation.

  After their laughter faded, the house settled into its usual rhythm. Theo helped clear the dishes, despite Marie’s insistence that she could handle it. They moved around each other in the kitchen with the ease of habit, their bond shining through the simple act of tidying up.

  As the day wore on, Theo retreated to his room to pack. The academy required precision and readiness, and he was determined to make a good impression. He carefully folded his clothes and arranged his books, pausing occasionally to glance at the window. Outside, the sun hung low in the sky, painting the fields in golden light.

  Marie knocked softly before entering. She leaned against the doorframe, watching as Theo struggled to fit a particularly stubborn cloak into his bag. “Need help?”

  He grinned at her without turning around. “Nope. Got it all under control.”

  She stepped in anyway, picking up a stray sock from the bed and placing it neatly into the bag. “I can’t believe it’s already time for you to leave,” she said, her voice quieter now.

  Theo looked up, his expression serious. “It’s just the academy, Mom. I’m not going to war or anything.”

  Marie gave a small laugh, but her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I know. It’s just… you’ve grown up so fast. Feels like just yesterday you were running around with your toy sword, pretending to fight dragons.”

  He smirked. “Maybe I’ll fight real ones now.”

  “Let’s hope not,” she replied, her voice catching slightly.

  They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the coming goodbye settling between them. Then, with a deep breath, Marie stepped forward and pulled Theo into a hug.

  “You’re going to do amazing things,” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “I just know it.”

  He hugged her back tightly, the rare gesture of affection speaking volumes. “Thanks, Mom. For everything.”

  The next morning came all too quickly. Theo stood at the gate with his bags slung over his shoulder, his father, John, standing beside him. Marie fidgeted with Theo’s cloak, making sure it sat just right.

  “You’ll write, won’t you?” she asked again.

  “I will,” Theo promised, his voice steady.

  John clapped a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “We’re proud of you, son. Remember that.”

  “I know, Dad.” Theo turned to both of them, his confidence shining through. “I’ll make you proud.”

  As the carriage arrived to take him to the academy, Theo climbed in, giving them one last wave. Marie watched until the carriage disappeared from view, her heart a mixture of pride and sorrow.

  Beside her, John placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. “He’s going to be okay, Marie. So are we.”

  Marie nodded, though her gaze lingered on the empty road. “I know. It’s just… the house feels emptier every time one of them leaves.”

  John sighed, his grip tightening briefly. “We’ll manage. We always do.”

  Inside the carriage, Theo leaned back against the seat, staring out at the passing countryside. Excitement and nerves danced in his chest as he thought about what lay ahead. The academy was a world of opportunity, a place where he could prove himself and grow into the prodigy everyone believed him to be.

  But somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but think of the brother he’d lost so many years ago. A part of him wondered if Arlen would’ve been proud too.