Here it is:
"That's right, there's another chapter available. I don't know about you, but I'm really enjoying how this is developing. Although I did run into a small plot hole when I found out Bandit's age.
How is he over 40?! People in first-world countries really show why they're ahead. That would have also made it easier to explain why he has Alzheimer's. I had to research some very rare cases of people under 40 who got it as if it were some punishment from God.
Let's just pretend that plot hole doesn't exist. Add two years to Bandit's age, and the same for the girls and every other character in this series.
A lesson for me: don't let AI write something that I should be doing myself. I'll be rewriting that flaw.
With that said, let's stream this episode. 'This episode of Bluey is called, How to Explain to Your Daughters That You Have Alzheimer's Without Messing It Up.'
I'm clearly terrible at making up titles. Let's just call it chapter 5 and leave it at that. Haha. It's not even in this episode that…"
Don't give up on yourself; hold on to a small spark, and never give it to anyone...
As long as you have it, you can rekindle the fire...
*Charles Bukowski*
For some reason, the entire road was unusually loud that day. The sound of car horns and advertisements everywhere drowned out the silence Bandit needed at that moment.
Chilli was behind the wheel, her knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Her gaze was fixed on the road, her lips pressed into a tense line, as if merely driving could keep everything threatening to fall apart in check. The car was heading to Rad and Frisky's house, where the girls were staying that afternoon. Though the original plan had been only to pick them up, Chilli's need to see her daughters had turned into an urgency. She had to have them close, to feel their warm little hands and hear their innocent voices; somehow, that would help her stay afloat.
The weight of the news she had received that morning clung to her chest like a stone. She hadn't done any physical work, nor had she overworked her mind, but still, she felt exhausted. Empty. "The girls are with Frisky and Rad," she murmured under her breath, as if saying it aloud might give her body an excuse to keep moving. But there wasn't much else to say. The conversation, like so many others that day, hung in the air, suspended in a silence broken only by the city's rumble.
The drive felt endless; yet, at the same time, it was not long enough. Bandit wished the journey would never end, that they could keep driving through those loud, impersonal streets, where the world demanded nothing from them. But the destination was inevitable, and before he knew it, they were parked in front of Rad and Frisky's house. The echo of the car door closing snapped him back to the present moment, though he still felt disconnected from his own body, as if all of this were happening to someone else.
The cheerful shouts of the girls were the first things to break the somber atmosphere. Bluey and Bingo shot out of the house, running toward them with all the energy that Bandit and Chilli no longer possessed. The girls were happy, blissfully unaware of the weight hanging over their parents. Bluey leapt into her mother's arms, while Bingo did the same with her father. Chilli bent down to hug them, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes, though the girls didn't seem to notice the difference.
"Mom! Dad! How was your day?" Bluey asked, her voice bubbling with that innocent curiosity that only children have.
Chilli swallowed hard. She felt Bandit's expectant gaze, but he said nothing. He just let out a long sigh and walked over to the sofa, collapsing onto it as if merely standing were a monumental effort. Bingo, not understanding what was going on, snuggled up next to him, hugging him tightly. The simple gesture seemed to drain him even further, but at the same time, it was the only thing keeping him together.
"You didn't even say good day to me, brother," said Radley, who had just returned from his job on the oil rig. He had also recently requested a reduction in his work hours to spend more time with his wife.
"It's because you're hardly around anymore, Radley," Bandit joked, knowing his brother didn't like being called by his given name.
"Hey, you know I don't like it when you call me that," Radley replied, moving in to hug his brother.
Just then, Frisky appeared and immediately went over to greet Chilli with her usual energy. "Hey, Chilli, how are you?"
Chilli tried to keep the conversation casual as she hugged Frisky, but her mind remained trapped under the weight of the news she couldn't let go of. She knew that, sooner or later, she would have to confront it, but at that moment, she wasn't sure she had the strength. She glanced sideways at Bandit, who was still holding Bingo in his arms, his gaze fixed on the floor as if avoiding any connection with the reality about to crash down on them.
Frisky, always perceptive, noticed the tension in Chilli's posture. "Are you okay? You seem a little… off today."
Chilli forced a smile. "It's just… it's been a rough few days, nothing to worry about." The words came out without conviction, but she wasn't ready to involve Frisky just yet. This was a conversation for their closest family first; though right then, the idea of telling anyone felt as heavy as climbing a mountain.
Rad, still holding Bandit in a brotherly hug, frowned when he noticed that his brother barely responded to the joke. "What's up with you, Bandit? You're quieter than usual. And that's saying something, considering how you are."
Bandit gave a faint smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. He didn't want to be the first to speak. Since they'd received the diagnosis, he had preferred to retreat into silence, thinking that if he didn't say it out loud, maybe it wouldn't be real. But he knew Chilli couldn't hold it in much longer. Her gaze, fixed on him, said it all. She was ready to break the silence. And Bandit, in his current state, couldn't let that happen.
Chilli took a deep breath, noting that the girls were a few steps away, distracted by a game on the living room floor. She knew she couldn't keep avoiding the truth. Bluey and Bingo deserved to know. They needed time to understand what was coming and to process their father's imminent illness. She took another deep breath, straightening up as she felt the weight of the words she was about to say.
"Girls…" she began, her voice a little steadier than she expected. The little ones looked up expectantly, their bright, innocent eyes always giving her strength. Chilli felt the knot in her throat tighten even more. "There's something we need to—"
Bandit suddenly interrupted, his voice unexpectedly filling the room. "Hey, Bluey, Bingo! Why don't you tell Mom and Dad about that secret project you've been working on with Rad and Frisky?"
The girls, thrilled by the change of subject, began talking over each other, their enthusiastic voices drowning out any attempt by Chilli to pick up the thread of the conversation. Bluey launched into a detailed explanation of how they were building a tiny fairy house in the garden, while Bingo gestured with her hands, trying to show the size of the pebbles they had collected.
Chilli closed her eyes for a moment, letting the murmur of their childlike voices fill the void left by her unfinished revelation. Bandit had done what she feared: avoided the truth once more. And although part of her understood—no one wanted to hurt the girls—another part knew this couldn't be postponed much longer.
When the girls finished their story, Frisky and Rad exchanged glances. They weren't fools. They both knew something else was going on, but they respected the space. "Well, it sounds like you girls have a lot to work on," Rad said, smiling proudly at the little ones. "I helped a bit, but most of the work was all them."
"Yeah!" exclaimed Bluey, beaming. "Dad, you have to come see it; it's amazing!"
Bandit smiled, this time with a bit more sincerity. "Of course, Bluey. I'll check it out later."
Chilli felt that the chance to talk to the girls had slipped away, and in that moment, she decided that maybe Bandit was right to delay the conversation a bit longer. But not for too long. The girls needed to know soon, but first, she needed the support of the adult family members. Perhaps if she spoke with Bandit's mother and his brothers first, she could find the right way to explain it to the girls without completely breaking their hearts.
When they finally left Frisky's house, with the girls tired but happy in the back seat, Chilli let out a long sigh, filled with frustration.
"You know we have to tell them, right?" she asked quietly, though the fatigue in her tone made it clear she wasn't expecting an answer.
Bandit said nothing at first. He kept driving in silence, eyes fixed on the road, before nodding slightly. "I know. But not today. Let's talk to Mom and my brothers first."
Chilli nodded, though she wasn't entirely in agreement. Time was running out, and every passing day was one less day they could spend with Bandit as they knew him. But she understood that everyone, even Bandit, needed their own time to process.
Perhaps, just perhaps, that would help them find the right words when the time finally came to tell Bluey and Bingo.
The hum of the girls' voices lingered in Chilli's mind as the car moved slowly through the quiet city streets. Evening was beginning to fall, and the sky, painted a soft orange, reflected the contradictory feelings pulsing in her chest. The girls' laughter seemed to muffle the gravity of what lay ahead, but Chilli knew reality couldn't be postponed indefinitely.
Her thoughts wandered to Bandit, sitting silently beside her. They had shared so much together—joys, challenges—but never anything like this. He had always been her rock, the one who gave her strength when she faltered, and yet, in the past few hours, it was he who seemed to be crumbling in silence.
The weight of the circumstances was building. She recalled the moment he had confessed what was happening, the mixture of disbelief and fear that had washed over her. And though Chilli was strong, she couldn't deny how much it hurt to think about how this truth would change everything for Bluey and Bingo. The girls deserved to know the truth, but truth was such a fragile thing, so dangerous in the hands of the innocent.
The car stopped at a red light, and Chilli glanced toward the back seat. The girls were sound asleep, their faces peaceful, blissfully unaware of the fears lingering in the air. For a moment, she wished she could protect them forever, keep them in that bubble of innocence they still inhabited. But she knew it wasn't possible. Life was relentless, and though Bluey and Bingo didn't know it yet, they would soon find out.
"Do you think your mom will know what to do?" she finally asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them like a heavy fog.
Bandit didn't respond immediately. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, as if each one might disrupt the delicate balance they were trying to maintain. "She… always knows what to say," he murmured at last, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. "But I'm not sure anything anyone says can make this easier."
Chilli gripped the steering wheel slightly, feeling frustration bubbling up inside her. The worst part was the helplessness, knowing that no matter how hard they tried, the impact would be harsh. And perhaps what she feared most was that, once the truth came to light, things would never be the same.
"Maybe," she said softly, as if speaking more to herself than to him, "maybe it's not about finding the perfect words. I don't think they exist. But we have to be honest, Bandit. The girls deserve that, even if it's painful."
Bandit said nothing more, but his hand slid over hers, fingers intertwining in a silent gesture of understanding. They were in this together, even if each was bearing the burden in their own way. The road stretched out in front of them, seemingly endless, as if symbolizing the path they still had to walk before they could confront the inevitable.
Chilli looked back outside, watching the trees pass by like shadows as night began to fall. She knew that talking with Bandit's family would be a necessary step. Maybe together, they could find a way to face this. Perhaps, with the right words, or maybe just with the presence of loved ones, they could help make the pain more bearable for Bluey and Bingo. But that did little to ease the fear she felt.
She leaned back against the seat, trying to release some of the tension she'd been holding. The night was beginning to take over the sky, and the day was coming to an end, but she knew the real storm was yet to come.
Night had fallen completely by the time Chilli and Bandit arrived at Bandit's mother's house. The girls had stayed with Frisky, who had offered to look after them, sensing that their parents had something delicate to attend to. Radley was already heading to his mother's house, and upon hearing that Stripe would be there as well, he guessed the recent medical appointment must have brought bad news.
The silence in the car was thick, weighted with anticipation and fear. Bandit turned off the engine and stared straight ahead, his hands still gripping the wheel. Chilli placed her hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"We're in this together," she reminded him softly.
Bandit nodded, letting out a shaky sigh. "I know. It's just… I don't know how I'm going to tell Mom. With her condition…"
Chilli understood his concern. Bandit's mother had been diagnosed with early dementia a few months earlier, and though she still had moments of lucidity, the decline was inevitable. Bandit had tried to be strong, but Chilli knew how much it hurt him to watch his once-sharp and energetic mother gradually fade into fragments of memories.
"You don't have to do it alone," Chilli assured him. "Your brothers will be there too. We'll support each other."
Finally, they got out of the car and made their way to the front door. Before they could knock, the door opened, revealing Stripe, Bandit's younger brother.
"Hey, we've been waiting for you," Stripe greeted them, his face full of concern. "Radley's already here. Mom's having a good day, but…"
"But what?" Bandit asked, tensing.
Stripe glanced at him with worry. "You've got a lot to tell us. I know you went to the hospital, and I doubt this is a family barbecue," he said, his face showing his unease.
Bandit lowered his head, avoiding Stripe's questioning gaze.
Bandit took a deep breath, looking at Stripe, who watched him with a mixture of expectation and concern. He wanted to tell him, but the words tangled in his mind, as if they were reluctant to come out.
"It's just… the doctors think some things might change over the next few years," Bandit said, trying to keep his tone light, but unable to hide the shadow of worry. "Small things, like memory. Sometimes… sometimes I struggle to remember details."
Stripe furrowed his brow, not quite grasping the message. "Memory? Come on, brother, we all forget things now and then. Remember, I'm the one who forgot Mom's birthday last year."
Bandit chuckled softly, though there was a sadness hidden in his eyes. "Yeah, but… maybe I'll forget some slightly bigger things, you know? Like… Dad's barbecue recipe or where I left the keys."
Stripe chuckled, patting Bandit on the back. "Well, in that case, you'll just have to call and ask. Or better yet, write things down somewhere, like our grandparents used to. That way, they'll never get lost."
Bandit nodded slowly, with a smile that tried to appear casual. "Yeah, maybe that'll work. Just… don't be surprised if one day I call and ask you the same questions a few times."
Stripe didn't seem to catch the true gravity of the conversation and laughed instead. "Wouldn't be the first time, Bandit. We're brothers; we're used to hearing each other repeat the same stories."
But Chilli, who had been watching in silence, squeezed Bandit's hand, sensing the intent behind his words. While Stripe continued joking, she exchanged a look full of understanding and compassion with Bandit, silently assuring him she'd be there with him, both in memory and in forgetfulness.
They entered the house, where the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Nana was sitting in her favorite chair, knitting what looked like a scarf, while Radley flipped through a magazine on the couch. When Bandit and Chilli walked in, Nana looked up and smiled warmly. "My dears!" she exclaimed, setting her knitting aside.
Bandit felt a mixture of comfort and anxiety seeing his mother knitting, just as she always had. He approached her and kissed her on the cheek, while Stripe closed the door behind them.
"How have you been, Mom?" Bandit asked, sitting down next to her.
"Oh, fine, fine. I was making this scarf for your brother. You know how he complains about the cold in the mornings," Nana replied with ease.
Suddenly, Radley lunged toward Bandit. "Are you going to tell us what the hell's going on?" he demanded, his voice so loud that it nearly startled their mother.
"Hey, calm down first, and then he'll answer," Chilli responded, slightly annoyed by Radley's abruptness. She knew the brothers usually interacted this way, but this time, she didn't want things to get heated.
The atmosphere in the room grew tense after Radley's outburst, and for a moment, everyone fell silent. Nana looked at her sons with a mixture of confusion and concern, her hands trembling slightly as she held the scarf she was knitting.
Bandit took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. He knew his brothers were worried, but it wasn't easy to share what he'd learned in that cold hospital waiting room. The diagnosis still felt like a fresh wound.
"Rad," Bandit finally said in a low voice, meeting his brother's gaze firmly, "I know you're worried, but I need everyone to stay calm. It's the only way we can talk about… about what I need to tell you."
Radley huffed but sank onto the sofa, crossing his arms in resignation. Stripe, with a more composed expression, went to the kitchen and returned with a tray of tea that Nana had prepared, using the moment to ease the tension in the room.
"Let's all sit at the table," Chilli suggested, setting the tray down on the coffee table. "It's easier to talk without so much drama. Besides, Nana should feel comfortable."
Nana, though somewhat confused by the shift in her children's moods, gave a gentle smile as she folded her knitting. "Seems serious," she remarked, her voice carrying a hint of irony but never losing its warmth. "Lord knows you've had plenty of secrets and tricks in this house, but I've never seen you this way."
Bandit managed a faint smile and helped his mother up. "It's just a family chat, Mom. Nothing to worry about," he assured her, attempting to deflect the tension so she wouldn't feel anxious. He knew she picked up on her children's emotions like a radar.
Once they were all seated at the table, Chilli poured tea for everyone, and Nana sat between Bandit and Stripe. The sound of the tea steaming and the calming aroma filled the room, acting as a balm against the weight of the words about to be spoken. Radley drummed his fingers on the table, clearly impatient, but Chilli shot him a look that made him stop.
Bandit took a moment, looking at each of his brothers, and then at his mother, who was watching him with calm but inquisitive eyes. The moment had come, but finding the right way to start the conversation was harder than he'd anticipated.
"Is Dad not coming tonight?" Bandit asked, glancing toward the door. "I thought he'd be here for dinner after so much time in India."
His comment brought an uncomfortable silence over the room. Chilli watched as Bandit opened his mouth to correct himself, but his words faltered.
Radley dropped the cup he was holding, and Stripe moved closer to his brother slowly. Chilli felt her heart clench, seeing the confusion in her husband's eyes.
"Bandit, that's not something to joke about!" Radley exclaimed, giving Bandit an intense, reprimanding look.
Bandit furrowed his brow, bewildered. "Joke? What are you talking about, Rad?" he responded, a hint of irritation and genuine surprise in his voice. "I just asked about Dad. I thought maybe… maybe we'd see him today."
Radley and Stripe exchanged glances, and Bandit noticed a mixture of sadness and compassion in their eyes that made him feel even more unsettled. The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating, and in that instant, something inside him broke. The uneasiness in his chest grew into a pressing ache, as if he couldn't breathe.
"What's going on?" he whispered, his tone now far more vulnerable.
Chilli, by his side, gently touched his arm, and Bandit felt her fingers tremble. She was his anchor, but now, even she seemed unsteady, as though the news about to be shared would tear them both apart. "Bandit…" she began, her voice cracking with emotion. "Your father… he passed away a year ago. Do you remember? It was just after he returned from his last trip to India."
Bandit remained motionless, his thoughts spinning as he tried to process her words. A year. The words echoed in his mind, hitting him again and again. At first, he felt confusion, then disbelief, and finally a devastating pain as reality hit him like a wave, crashing mercilessly. His eyes filled with tears as he looked at his brothers, searching their faces for some sign that this wasn't true.
"No… it can't be," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
Nana, who had been silent until then, extended a trembling hand toward her son. "My boy… your father passed away last year. It was peaceful, in his sleep, just as he always wanted."
Memories began flooding Bandit's mind in a confusing torrent: his father laughing, hugging him, giving him advice before leaving on that trip. But now, those memories felt shattered, fragmented, as if they belonged to a life slipping away without him being able to stop it. Stripe approached and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Is this why you brought us together today?" he asked. "The forgetfulness… the things you mentioned."
Bandit gave a barely perceptible nod, unable to speak. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he struggled to keep his composure, each word caught in his throat like a knot of pain. "The doctor… the diagnosis came this morning," he managed to say with effort, his voice so broken it barely sounded like his own. "Early-onset Alzheimer's. They say it's… hereditary in some cases."
Radley, who had been angry moments earlier, felt his anger dissolve, replaced by a dull ache in his chest. "Why didn't you tell us sooner that you were having trouble?"
Bandit swallowed with difficulty, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Because I was afraid," he admitted, his voice cracking with shame and pain. "At first, it was small things… forgetting where I left the keys, mixing up dates. But then… I started forgetting entire conversations. And now…" He paused, his words dissolving into a barely audible whisper. "Now I can't even remember that Dad isn't with us anymore."
Chilli squeezed his hand, offering silent support as he continued. "The doctors say the progression will be gradual, but… but it will inevitably get worse. I need you all to know because… because I'll need your help. All of you."
Nana, with tears in her eyes, rose from her chair and hugged her eldest son. "My boy… my sweet boy," she murmured, stroking his hair as she had when he was little. "We'll be here for you, always."
In silence, the family came together in a hug, holding each other tightly amid the storm they had just unleashed. Bandit closed his eyes, letting himself be enveloped by the warmth of his loved ones, though in his mind there remained only an abyss of anguish and fear.
Stripe cleared his throat, struggling against his own emotions. "What can we do? There must be treatments, therapies…"
"There are," Chilli interjected, pulling out a folder with medical information. "The doctor gave us a treatment plan. Medications that can help slow the progression, memory exercises, routines…"
"We'll also need help with the girls," Bandit continued, wiping away his tears and regaining some composure. "Bluey and Bingo… we haven't told them anything yet. I don't know how to explain to them that their father might slowly… slowly begin to forget…"
He couldn't finish the sentence. The thought of forgetting his daughters was too painful to put into words. Radley, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke.
"You're not going to face this alone, brother," he said firmly. "We'll make a plan together. We can set up routines, take turns to be with you and the girls. Stripe can help with the memory exercises, and I can reduce my shifts at the platform…"
"And I can teach you to knit," Nana interjected with a gentle smile. "Knitting… it helps me keep my mind clear on my difficult days. Maybe it'll help you too."
Bandit let out a teary laugh at his mother's suggestion. "Me? Knitting?"
"Why not?" she replied, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Your father learned too, you know. Said it helped him relax after his trips."
The mention of his father brought a new silence to the room, but this time it wasn't as heavy as before. It was a thoughtful silence, full of shared memories and family love.
"We'll need to set up a system," Chilli suggested, pulling a notebook from her purse. "Something to help Bandit keep track of his days. Maybe a journal or notes on his phone…"
"We could use an app," Stripe proposed. "There are some designed specifically for people with memory issues. We could set it up to send reminders about medication, appointments, and important events…"
"And maybe we could create a family journal," Radley added, his voice gentler than usual. "With notes from all of us, labeled with names and dates. So you can always remember who we are and the moments we've shared."
Bandit nodded, grateful for the suggestions, though the weight of his condition still lingered in his heart. "But what about the girls? How do we explain this to them?"
Chilli exchanged a look with Nana, seeking wisdom in the matriarch's eyes. "I think we need to be honest with them, but in a way they can understand. Explain that Daddy is sick, but with everyone's help—especially theirs—we can make the days easier."
"The girls are stronger and more understanding than we think," Nana added, her voice carrying the weight of years of experience. "And love… love has a way of persisting even when memory fails. Trust me, I know."
Bandit looked at his mother with new eyes, realizing for the first time what she faced each day with her own condition. "How do you do it, Mom? How do you handle the days when things don't make sense?"
Nana smiled gently. "One day at a time, my love. I lean on the love of my family. And when I'm scared… well, all I need is to look at my children to know that everything will be okay."
"And we'll do the same for you," Stripe assured him, squeezing his brother's shoulder. "We'll be your memory when yours fades. We'll tell you the stories you forget. We'll remind you who you are when you can't."
"And most importantly," added Radley, "we'll love you no matter what. As a family, that's what we do."
Chilli watched as the family's words of support seemed to ease some of the burden Bandit carried on his shoulders. Although the road ahead would be difficult, they wouldn't walk it alone.
"I can come by your place on Tuesdays and Thursdays," Stripe offered. "We could do memory exercises together, maybe play some board games…"
"And I'll be here on weekends when I'm not on the platform," Radley added. "We can keep the family barbecue tradition going. Routines are important, right?"
Nana nodded approvingly. "And I'll be here whenever you need me. We can learn together, sweetheart. Sometimes, when two people forget together, it's easier to remember."
"Thank you," Bandit said simply, his voice heavy with emotion. "For being here. For understanding. For… everything."
Chilli leaned over and kissed his cheek softly. "We'll always be here, love. Together in this, no matter what."
Night had crept on without anyone noticing the passage of time. In Nana's living room, empty teacups and half-eaten cookies were silent witnesses to the hours that had slipped by. The soft glow of the lamps created an intimate atmosphere as the family remained gathered around the table.
Stripe had pulled out an old photo album he found on the shelf, and now everyone was leaning over it, pointing at different moments from their family life.
"Do you remember this one, Bandit?" Radley asked, pointing to a faded photo. "It was at your college graduation. Dad was so proud he wouldn't stop bragging about you to all his friends for weeks."
Bandit smiled, gently touching the image. "Yeah… I wore that blue tie Mom gave me. Dad said it made me look like a businessman."
Chilli watched tenderly as her husband tried to hold onto each detail, every story his brothers shared. In a new notebook, she was jotting down important dates, names, events they didn't want lost in the fog of forgetfulness.
"We should digitize these photos," Stripe suggested, carefully turning the album's pages. "We could make copies for everyone and label them properly."
Nana, who had been knitting while listening to the conversation, set her knitting aside and moved closer to her children. Her wrinkled hands caressed a photo of all of them at the beach many summers ago.
"That day," she began softly, "your father insisted we take that picture even though it was raining. He said the best memories are the ones that aren't planned."
Bandit felt his eyes well up again. "He always used to say things like that, didn't he? He had a saying for every occasion."
"Like father, like son," Radley joked, giving his brother a gentle nudge. "You've got that way with words too when you're playing with the girls."
The mention of Bluey and Bingo brought a moment of reflection to the room. Chilli squeezed Bandit's hand under the table, silently sharing her love and concern.
"Maybe we can start with the plan tomorrow," Stripe said, checking his phone. "I can swing by after work to help you set up the apps we talked about."
Radley nodded. "And I'll talk to my supervisor about adjusting my shifts. Family comes first."
When the clock struck eleven, they knew it was time to go. They stood slowly, as if trying to make each second last a little longer. Radley was the first to hug Bandit, a strong, lingering embrace, very different from their usual pats on the back.
"Love you, brother," he murmured, unashamed of the emotion in his voice.
Stripe joined in the hug, forming a circle that soon included Chilli. Nana watched them from her armchair, her eyes glistening with unshed tears and a serene smile on her face.
As Bandit and Chilli finally headed toward the door, Nana rose from her seat with some difficulty. Her square, fragile figure radiated an inner strength that only years could give.
"Remember," she said gently, taking both their hands in hers, "that love is stronger than any memory lost. And as long as we have each other, there will always be hope."
Bandit embraced his mother one last time, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender that always surrounded her.