"Because..." Kafka hesitated, searching for the right words. "I think... deep down, I didn't want to become like them. Like whoever took your daughter away from you." Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, betraying her own pain and anguish. "Maybe if we can find a different path, one that doesn't involve more suffering, then maybe there is hope for us both." She sighed softly, looking down at their intertwined hands. "I don't know.

Her breath caught in her throat as you pulled her close, wrapping your arms around her. For a moment, she stiffened, unsure how to react. Then, slowly, she relaxed into the embrace, returning the gesture with equal tenderness. Her cheek rested against your shoulder as she wrapped one arm around your waist, holding on tightly as if afraid you might disappear again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse from unshed tears. "For everything."