Four months had passed since the observatory deck's remarkable, hard-won gathering — four months of the specific, cherished ordinariness that Rama had learned, across seven extraordinary years, to protect as fiercely as any institutional crisis ever demanded. Their daughter, now confidently walking and beginning to string together small, delighted sentences, had settled into Singapore facility's familiar rhythm with the particular resilience only a child raised amid extraordinary circumstance seemed to possess. Nakamura and Jin-ho's own child had arrived three weeks prior — a son, healthy and considerably vocal about his own opinions regarding sleep schedules — and the observatory deck had witnessed genuine, sustained joy in the accumulated visits since.
It was, by every measure Rama had learned to value across this remarkable journey, a good season.
