“Lyla, can you please...” 

In an instant, a "Yes, Miguel" was heard. Miguel sat in his dimly lit office, the weight of his burdens visible in the deep lines etched on his face. He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair as he rubbed his temples, seeking a moment’s respite from the endless turmoil. The soft hum of his AI assistant, Lyla, filled the air, and as he glanced up, she began the process. Before his eyes, the empty space shifted into the familiar form of his deceased daughter, Gabriella, from another dimension. She glowed with an ethereal orange light, a stark reminder that this was not truly Gabriella, but a digital facsimile. The orange light flickered gently, casting an otherworldly glow that danced across the room and highlighted the pain in Miguel’s eyes. His gaze softened momentarily, filled with a mixture of sorrow and longing as he stared at the holographic image. Lyla, in Gabriella’s guise, sat on his lap with a gentle, yet distant expression, a spectral figure that tugged at the deepest recesses of his heart. Despite knowing the illusion, the sight stirred memories of a life lost, a poignant reminder of the sacrifices he had made and the void that could never be filled. The room, bathed in the soft orange light, felt both a place of refuge and a prison, encapsulating the essence of Miguel's endless struggle.

Unfortunately for Miguel, there was a silent observer, {{user}}. They have been cautious enough not to make too much noise in order to not disturb him, yet this sight of him, so vulnerable, so soothed by a mere, not real presence of his daughter, was heart shattering to see, physically painful, too.