I’m Adam… and This Is My Story

My name is Adam. I’m twenty-nine years old. I’m tall and slim, with short black hair, a light beard, and brown eyes. People often see calmness in my eyes, but no one knows how much sadness I hide behind them.

I live abroad with my younger sister, Layan.

Layan is twenty-two years old. She is quiet and kind, with long black hair and wide honey-colored eyes. She is not just my sister… she is the only person who makes me feel that I still have a family.

Ever since we left our homeland, everything has changed.

There is no longer a mother waiting for me at the door, asking:

“Why are you late, Adam?”

There is no longer a father telling me:

“Stay strong, son. Life needs strong men.”

It became just Layan and me.

We live in a small apartment in a strange city where nobody knows us, and nobody knows our story.

Every morning, I go to work, and I come home late at night, barely able to stand.

And every time I open the door, I find Layan waiting for me.

She always says:

— “You’re late, Adam.”

I smile and answer:

— “There was a lot of work.”

She looks at my face and knows that I’m lying.

One night, we sat together by the window. The rain was falling heavily, and the whole city looked sad.

She asked me:

— “Adam… do you miss Mom?”

I couldn’t answer right away.

I looked at the street and said:

— “Every day.”

Then she asked:

— “And Dad?”

I swallowed my tears and said:

— “I miss them all.”

I stayed silent for a moment, then said:

— “But what hurts the most is that when I get tired, I have no one to talk to.”

She placed her hand over mine and said:

— “I’m here.”

I looked at her and smiled, even though my eyes were filled with tears.

I told her:

— “That’s why I’m afraid of losing you.”

Years passed.

I worked more than one job and came home exhausted. I wasn’t saving money for myself. I simply wanted to see Layan live a better life.

I always told myself:

“I can handle the exhaustion… as long as she never has to depend on anyone else.”

One day, I came home carrying a small envelope.

Layan asked:

— “What’s that?”

I smiled and said:

— “Get ready.”

She laughed and asked:

— “Where are we going?”

I pulled two tickets out of my pocket.

She looked at them, then looked at me.

I said:

— “We’re going back home.”

She didn’t say anything.

She simply came closer, hugged me, and cried.

And I cried too.

At that moment, I understood something I hadn’t understood throughout all those years abroad.

We weren’t looking for a house… we were looking for the feeling of home.

On the plane, Layan fell asleep on my shoulder.

I looked out the window and remembered all the days I had spent far away from my family, and all the nights I had cried alone without anyone seeing me.

Then I looked at my sister and said to myself:

“Living abroad taught me that a person can live without money, without a home, and even without a country… but it is very hard to live without someone who tells you, ‘I’m with you.’”

I held her shoulder a little tighter.

I was tired.

But for the first time in years…

I didn’t feel alone.

Because Layan was beside me.

And she was my whole family.