And no words could describe how a soul feels when it’s surrounded by love—wrapped in warmth like a soft blanket. That was exactly how Damir’s soul felt in those minutes. When he felt his father’s strong embrace, his mother’s tearful kisses, his sister’s hands around him… All the doubts that had plagued him before seemed like utter nonsense.

What could matter more than family?

It felt like he finally had answers to all the unspoken questions—and his heart found peace.

Damir asked for a cigarette, and the driver handed him his own pack. Without looking, Damir struck the lighter and took a long drag.

Standing on the balcony of his bedroom, he gazed up at the cloudy sky and smoked. It was the first time in over five years that he’d held a cigarette in his hands. It was around 4 a.m. After an emotionally exhausting day that smoothly turned into night, everyone had finally gone to their rooms, though likely, no one had actually fallen asleep. Everyone except Samad—he hadn’t shown up at all. They said he had to go out of town for urgent business. Well, there would be time to meet. Plenty of time.

Damir thought about his Tatar mother. Of course he wouldn’t leave her. She would stay close to him—wherever he lived. Here? Then here. And then there was Aaliya… he had a fiancée. He stubbed out the cigarette and went back inside.

The next two days, he stayed close to his birth mother, Emine. She practically didn’t let him out of her sight. And he didn’t resist her wishes. He had always been soft when it came to women—especially mothers. His Iranian mother spoke poor English, and they still communicated through a translator—his younger sister, Saher, who was more than happy to fill that role. Damir studied them when they weren’t looking. His mother turned out to be an exceptionally beautiful woman—just like his sister. Large eyes framed by long lashes, arched brows, luxurious black hair. His mother had a soft, curvy figure that made him want to lay his head on her chest and fall asleep like a baby.

Saher, meanwhile, was tall and slender—clearly, they both inherited their height from their father. He was overwhelmed with emotion. He had no idea something like this could happen to him—love, pride, a hunger to make up for lost years. Even he couldn’t fully grasp what was going on in his soul. But one thing he knew for certain—he didn’t want to leave them anymore. His only real concern now was to bring over his mother Zulfiya. She was waiting for him, missing him, loving him. He couldn’t leave her alone for long, knowing she was at home counting the days. So he decided to stay one more week and then bring up the subject—either of going back or having her come here. Oh yes, his fiancée was waiting too.

Damir knew they wouldn’t deny him anything, and everything would work out. Especially since Samad—whom he still hadn’t met—also needed time with his birth mother. And the best option, Damir concluded, would be for all of them to live together.

The next day, his father decided to introduce Damir to the family business. First stop: the main facility. They owned several thousand acres of land used for plantations. They grew strawberries, vegetables, and a variety of fruits. The produce was sold to different factories and local markets. They also ran a chain of supermarkets across Canadian provinces and three nearby U.S. cities.

“Samad’s barely managing everything. Your brain and hands will be a huge help, son,” Omer said with a light chuckle, patting Damir’s shoulder.