The guards exchanged uncertain glances, their authority waning in the face of such palpable solidarity. “We’ll double-check the list,” one of them mumbled, retreating down the aisle, leaving Solomon in peace.

Solomon settled back into his seat, the gymnasium around him alive with murmurs of approval and relief. The elderly woman beside him patted his hand, her smile warm and reassuring. “You’re right where you belong,” she said softly.

As the ceremony continued, Solomon’s heart swelled with pride and gratitude. When Tyran’s name echoed through the gymnasium, Solomon stood, clapping with the force of a thousand triumphs. His son glanced over, a smile breaking through the formal line of graduates, a nod exchanged between them that spoke volumes—of shared sacrifices, of love that endured despite distance and duty.