What We Leave Behind Novels & Stories

The words Divorce Agreement blurred immediately as tears hit the page. I stood there for a long time, staring at them. At last, I folded the papers and put them away. I could not stay here anymore. I did not want this family anymore. I was going to leave the Vieri family, and I was going to leave Serafina. If no one had ever truly wanted me from the start, then I would be the one to walk away.

Our eyes met briefly, a silent acknowledgment that we were in this together, no matter what lay ahead. And so, hand in hand, we walked towards the departure gate, our footsteps echoing the rhythm of our hearts. Leaving Hawaii behind was not just leaving a place, but a chapter of our lives that had shaped us in ways we couldn't fully comprehend. But as we boarded the plane, I knew that no matter where life took us, the memories we had created here would forever be etched in my mind.

"That is what five years of success has taught me to ask. Not just how to sustain my own career but what I want to leave behind." Christmas Eve, Alex and I stayed home. No parties, no obligations. Just the two of us and the view from our windows as the city celebrated. "What do you want from next year?" he asked as we drank wine on the couch. "More of this. More sustainability. More conscious choice. More work that matters beyond my individual success." "That sounds like you are thinking about legacy." "That is what the next series explores. What we leave behind. What persists." "That is heavy subject matter."

"I know. But that is how it is. Life is a circle. One arrives, one gives, one leaves. What matters is what one leaves behind. And you, you are the best I leave behind." I kiss them one after the other. Their faces are wet with tears. I cry too. But they are gentle tears. Tears of accomplishment. "Now," I say, "the candles must be put out. It's late. And tomorrow, there is another ceremony. Another recruit. Other lives to open." I stand, begin to extinguish the candles one by one. The rotunda darkens gradually. Behind me, I hear them stand, kiss, leave toward their room. I remain alone for a moment, in the half-light. The last candle still burns, its flame dancing, flickering.

Work flies by in the a flurry of patients. Working with the elderly in a care home is so rewarding. I enjoy it and it’s made me happy. I work methodically and calmly through the day. I don’t give myself time to think too much about what I have to do after work. I never want to put my patients after my own issues while I’m at work. When the time comes to go home, I’m slow to leave. I walk back to the employee lounge to grab my purse saying goodbye to my coworkers and patients as I go.

It was a reminder that growth and change were part of the journey, that each pause was an opportunity to become more than we were before. Before closing the studio, Yam placed two leaves under each bench. One read: “I stayed long enough to trust softness.” The other: “Even when you leave, you’ve left kindness behind.” They were simple messages, yet they carried a profound truth, a reminder that the impact of our presence lingered long after we had gone.

I got to the Warwolf pack's border checkpoint in the middle of the night. As soon as I handed over my travel pass, I spotted Dad smiling and waving me over. I got into his car, noticing a big bag on the seat, stuffed with all my favorite candies and pastries. Mom was sitting beside me, unwrapping a piece of candy before popping it into my mouth with a happy smile. When I noticed the faint lines at the corners of Mom's eyes, everything I'd been holding back just came pouring out. "I never want to leave again. I just want to stay with you and Dad forever."

As we looked back on our tumultuous yet incredible journey, we knew that we had made a difference – not just in the realm of technology but in the hearts and minds of people around the world. And so, we continued to walk hand in hand, ready to face whatever the future held. With each step, we were guided by our love, our purpose, and the unwavering belief that we could shape a better world through the convergence of technology and humanity. Together, we were destined to leave a legacy that would transcend virtual boundaries and inspire generations to come.

That night, while everyone was eating dinner, I made the announcement. “We are leaving Murkwood this Sunday. For good.” The room went quiet. “We are not taking anything with us,” I continued. “All our clothes will be donated. We will only keep what we wear that day and everything else will be replaced.” They all stared at me as if they could not believe that it was really happening. “No furniture. Nothing that ties us back here. And no one tells anyone about this until we leave, is that clear?”

“I do too.” The room remained quiet and peaceful. Then he surprised me. “She does not owe us anything.” I turned toward him. He continued watching Aurelia. “Not the club.” His voice stayed gentle. “Not our expectations, not our dreams.” The words settled heavily inside me because they were exactly right; parents often talked about what they wanted to leave behind. The conversation usually focused on achievements, property, success, and influence. Maybe we had been thinking about legacy the wrong way, or maybe the greatest thing we could leave behind was freedom. The freedom to choose, the freedom to become, and the freedom to build a life without carrying someone else’s unfinished ambitions.