Sloane's home was modest—a small, one-bedroom apartment. The space was sparse, with only the bare essentials visible. Yet, my photograph was placed in the most prominent spot.

Allen sat on the carpet, diligently building with his blocks. Sloane, meanwhile, was organizing our belongings. Watching them, I couldn't help but be moved to tears.

Allen's shoes, though not new, were meticulously clean. He was well-groomed and cared for. I knew entrusting Allen to Sloane was the right choice. In this world, besides me, she was the one who loved him the most.

After tidying up, Sloane limped toward the kitchen. Allen glanced from his blocks to the kitchen, then eagerly followed...