Yaman turned to see a young man about his age—muscular, wearing a white shirt, sharp eyes, and long black hair falling over his forehead. Tall and strikingly handsome.
Yaman's voice trembled with eagerness. "Ryan? Ryan? Is it really you?"
He rushed forward, embracing him tightly, tears streaming down his face. Their embrace was long, like brothers reunited after a long separation.
Ryan smiled and teased, "Why are you crying, you fool?"
"Your friend is back. Everything will be alright now. Don't worry."