Love has different faces. Different stories. Different realities.There is the love of a mother, of the first face a newborn sees.There is the love of a father, of the gentle smile that calms rushing childhood tears.There is the love of a sister or a brother, of the teasing laughs and petty arguments. There is love everywhere, but then, there is the love that is infinite. The love that cannot be explained. The love that transcends such a word. It isn’t that this love is better than any of those before, it is that this love is the best kind of different. It isn’t just safe, it is home. That is this love. Idris didn’t know, at two years old, that the newborn wailing in her mother’s arms would bring him this love. He didn’t know that when her little fingers wrapped around his, that her cries stopped. He didn’t know. He didn’t know that when he was eight and she was six that she’d serve him a pie made of mud and that his heart would be too warm to say no. He didn’t know that he’d help her craft her first cup. Made of mud, the same of his thumb in the middle. He didn’t know that she’d look at him in wonder, as if he’d done magic. He didn’t know about her then, but he knew now and he wasn’t one to give things up. Not easily and not ever. Neither of them knew that they would change each other’s lives. They didn’t know that they were destined from the start, but they were. From the second his little hand reached for hers; irritable, fussy, they were locked together, inseparable, with a bond that was unshakable.