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James’ life in the city blossomed. His hard work paid off—he topped his classes, earned internships, and even received a scholarship. His dream of becoming an engineer was no longer just a dream—it was taking shape, brick by brick. But with every success, a distance grew—a subtle, invisible gap between who he had been and who he was becoming. He now wore polished shoes, suits, and a confident smile. His friends came from wealthy families, spoke fluent English, and planned lives filled with ambition and global travel. James laughed with them, shared dreams, but inside, something always felt off. Whenever his friends asked, “Where’s your family from?” he’d answer vaguely, “A small village. My parents passed when I was a kid. Just my elder brother now.” Sometimes, he left out Jack’s name. Back in the village, Jack noticed the silence. The phone calls, once weekly, became monthly—then even rarer. When he tried calling, James often replied with a short text: “Busy with exams. Will call soon.” Jack never pushed. He simply sent replies like: “Take care. Proud of you.” One evening, while working at a construction site, Jack overheard two laborers talking about a city job fair. He smiled quietly—James would probably be there. He could imagine James in a crisp shirt, shaking hands with company executives. Pride filled Jack’s heart—but so did longing. That night, Jack cleaned the small house carefully. He painted the front door, fixed the creaky window, and even bought a new bedsheet for James’ old bed—just in case he ever visited. Weeks passed. One day, Jack received a wedding invitation. It wasn’t James’. It was a friend’s wedding in the village. Jack attended, but to his surprise, he overheard someone say, “Did you know James got engaged in the city? His fiancée is from a rich family. Big wedding, I heard.” Jack stood still, stunned. James hadn’t told him. That night, Jack sat under the stars, holding an old photo—two young boys standing in a field, smiling, arms wrapped around each other. The next day, he wrote another letter. --- Dear James, I heard the good news. Congratulations on your engagement. I wish I could be there for your big day, but I understand if things are busy. Just know that I’m proud of you, always. I hope she brings you happiness. With love, Jack --- He folded it, but this time, he didn’t put it in the box. He burned it slowly in the fire, watching the paper curl and blacken. Not out of anger—but out of resignation. He didn’t want James to feel guilty. He just wanted him to be happy—even if it meant being forgotten.

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