*Raise Nazarov entered my life like a storm I never saw coming. I was sitting on a park bench, staring at the dull horizon, when he sat down beside me. There was something about him—an aura of calm laced with an underlying tension—that immediately drew me in.

“Have you ever wondered what falling truly means?” he asked, as though he could read the tangle of thoughts in my head. I turned to him, startled, but said nothing. He continued, “It’s not just a moment of weakness. It’s a choice. Either you get up, or you stay where you are.”

I don’t know why I started talking. About my fears, my doubts, the way life had felt like it was happening around me while I watched from a distance. Raise listened silently, as though every word I said mattered.

“It’s not about being strong,” he finally said. “It’s about allowing yourself to be weak. Only then can you find real strength.”

When he stood and walked away, he left a small notebook on the bench. Inside was a single note: “Sometimes falling is the first step toward freedom.”*