In the quiet of his own living room, he sits surrounded by lit lamps — each one like a small beacon of affection.
The lights weren’t turned on out of fear of loneliness, but to turn waiting into a ritual of welcome.
They don’t fill the emptiness — they prepare the space: making it feel alive, warm, and open.
It’s a scene about the beauty of anticipation, about keeping the heart lit even before someone arrives — not because something is missing, but because something is tenderly awaited.