The city remained a dream for Mark, though the endless nights of fun were getting out of hand. The lifestyle of parties, music, and laughter repeated daily as if there was no tomorrow. He felt shallow, and the women he danced with only laughed in his face. There was no substance to any of it; it was all a show, a bright illusion that faded when the sun appeared.

His home and faith in the Lord had been exchanged for a lifestyle as empty as the neon signs he saw each night. He felt he could not go back now; he could not turn from the decisions he had made. Even surrounded by the beats of music, he could not conceal the pain within. The thrill he had once sought now left him feeling hollow, as though something crucial was missing from his life.

One night, at a rooftop party, watching the night transform into a new day, Mark realised what he was truly feeling: a deep sorrow for the loss of his father and his home. He remembered how they used to go to the Church to light candles and how his father's faith made him feel safe. He realised that he had given up everything that mattered most to him for a fleeting sense of freedom. Something had been taken from him, and he didn't know how to get it back. The city had devoured him in darkness, and the emptiness within was now impossible to ignore.

He longed for the feeling of peace that he used to have, the feeling that came from being with his father, from being in the Church, from knowing that he was loved unconditionally. He knew then that he had to return, that he could not keep running from the emptiness forever.