His father's voice cut through, low and sharp. "We lost everything, Ren. Comrades. Home. Even our right to speak our name aloud. We were spared one thing only—time to run. You were born in exile. We swore to give you a life untouched by what we had carried."
The weight of it crashed down. Every silence. Every story untold. Every time his parents had looked out the window as though watching ghosts walk by. It had all been because of this.
Ren's chest burned. "You lied. All these years."
Elias's jaw tightened, but he did not flinch. "We hid. There is a difference."
Serenya's voice broke then, though she fought to keep it steady. "If you had known, you would have grown up chasing ghosts. Fighting battles that were never yours to carry. We wanted you to live."
Ren's throat closed. He wanted to shout, to demand more, but the fury tangled with something deeper. Something that felt like grief.
The President's voice cut across the silence.
