I det lille tettstedet, omfavnet av høstens farger, lå det et gammel trehus.

In the small village, embraced by the colors of autumn, lay an old wooden house.

Dette huset hadde vært hjemmet til Lars og Astrid i deres barndom.

This house had been the childhood home of Lars and Astrid.

Nå sto det der som et symbol på minner de begge hadde flyktet fra.

Now it stood there as a symbol of memories they both had fled from.

Lars knirket opp den gamle trappen og åpnet døren til loftet.

Lars creaked up the old stairs and opened the door to the attic.

Støvet hang i luften, og lukten av gamle bøker fylte nesen.

Dust hung in the air, and the smell of old books filled his nose.

"Lars, kan du gi meg en hånd?" ropte Astrid fra den andre enden av loftet.

"Lars, can you give me a hand?" yelled Astrid from the other end of the attic.

Hun sto med et gammelt, lekkende bøtte og prøvde å balansere det ved det dryppende taket.

She stood with an old, leaking bucket trying to balance it under the dripping roof.

"Jeg fikser det," svarte Lars kort, hans stemme litt skarpere enn ment.

"I'll fix it," Lars replied shortly, his voice a bit sharper than intended.

Han visste at Astrid var der for mer enn bare et lekk tak.

He knew that Astrid was there for more than just a leaky roof.

Men han hadde ikke tid for store prat.

But he didn't have time for big talk.

Han syklet mellom esker fulle av barndomsminner, lette etter noe.

He cycled between boxes full of childhood memories, searching for something.

Noe som kanskje kunne bevise overfor Astrid at hans valg ikke var feil.

Something that might prove to Astrid that his choices were not wrong.

At hans drømmer om musikk kunne bli til virkelighet på tross av familiens tvil.

That his dreams of music could become a reality despite the family's doubts.

Astrid, derimot, så på broren sin med uro.

Astrid, on the other hand, looked at her brother with concern.

Det var mange ord mellom dem som aldri hadde blitt sagt.

There were many words between them that had never been spoken.

Hun sukket stille og sa, "Lars, jeg vil gjerne hjelpe.

She sighed quietly and said, "Lars, I would like to help.

Jeg tror... kanskje vi bør snakke." Hennes stemme var mild, men hun visste ikke om den nådde Lars i det hele tatt.

I think... maybe we should talk." Her voice was gentle, but she didn't know if it reached Lars at all.

Mens de flyttet gamle møbler, kom en uventet samtale i gang.

As they moved old furniture, an unexpected conversation arose.

"Husker du da vi pleide å spille gjemsel her oppe?" spurte Astrid, i et forsøk på å lette stemningen.

"Do you remember when we used to play hide and seek up here?" Astrid asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Lars lo, en ekte latter.

Lars laughed, a genuine laugh.

"Ja, du var alltid den verste til å gjemme deg," svarte han med et glimt i øynene.

"Yes, you were always the worst at hiding," he replied with a sparkle in his eyes.

Det skulle til å bli en bedre stemning da han plutselig følte brystet bli stramt.

The atmosphere was about to improve when he suddenly felt his chest tighten.

Pusten ble kort og anstrengende.

His breathing became short and labored.

Lars kastet fra seg det han holdt og grep etter inhalatoren sin.

Lars dropped what he was holding and reached for his inhaler.

Panikk bredte seg.

Panic spread.

Astrid så ham stri med pusten og handlet umiddelbart.

Astrid saw him struggle to breathe and acted immediately.

"Lars, slapp av. Pust rolig," sa hun, mens hun forsiktig holdt ham oppe.

"Lars, relax. Breathe slowly," she said, as she gently supported him.

Mens Lars sakte kom til seg selv, så han Astrids øyne fylt av både bekymring og noe mer – omsorg.

As Lars slowly came to himself, he saw Astrid's eyes filled with both concern and something more—care.

"Unnskyld," mumlet han, fortsatt andpusten.

"Sorry," he mumbled, still out of breath.

"Jeg trodde ikke... jeg trodde ikke jeg skulle trenge hjelp."

"I didn't think... I didn't think I would need help."

"Du har aldri trengt å gjøre dette alene," sa Astrid, stemmen hennes både fast og myk.

"You never had to do this alone," said Astrid, her voice both firm and gentle.

De satt seg ned på det støvete loftsgulvet.

They sat down on the dusty attic floor.

Solen skinte varmt gjennom et skittent vindu mens de delte minner og drømmer.

The sun shone warmly through a dirty window as they shared memories and dreams.

De begynte å forstå at styrke finnes i å gi seg selv lov til å vise sårbarhet.

They began to understand that strength is found in allowing oneself to show vulnerability.

Det var et øyeblikk av ekte forbindelse.

It was a moment of true connection.

En ny begynnelse for dem begge.

A new beginning for both of them.

Som de siste høstbladene som falt ned fra trærne utenfor, falt også mye av den gamle bitterheten bort.

Like the last autumn leaves falling from the trees outside, much of the old bitterness fell away too.

Deres familiehistorie var ugjenkallelig, men deres fremtid kunne fortsatt formes.

Their family history was irrevocable, but their future could still be shaped.

"Lars, jeg er her.

"Lars, I'm here.

Jeg ønsker bare å se deg lykkes," sa Astrid, hennes stemme som en lett bris.

I just want to see you succeed," said Astrid, her voice like a light breeze.

Og for første gang forestilte Lars seg sin fremtid med familien bak seg, ikke som hans kritikkere, men som hans støtte.

And for the first time, Lars imagined his future with his family behind him, not as his critics, but as his support.

Han innså at selv musikkens skjønnhet kunne bli forsterket med harmoni fra de rundt ham.

He realized that even the beauty of music could be amplified with harmony from those around him.