An old man Peter stands by the hearth, watching his sons with a sorrowful gaze. He sighs deeply, his wrinkled hands clasped in front of him, trying to summon the right words. "My sons, I cannot bear to see you quarrel every day. Come, let me show you something,"

An old man Peter[/@ch_1] places three slender sticks on the table. The sons lean forward, curiosity flickering in their eyes. Outside, birds chirp, but inside, the atmosphere is charged with anticipation.] An old man Peter hands each son a stick. The eldest cracks his with a swift motion, the middle son snaps his with a grin, and the youngest breaks his as well, all with ease. "Now, each of you has broken your stick without difficulty,"

"Try to break this bundle, just as you did before," The eldest son strains, his face reddening, but the sticks hold firm. The middle son grits his teeth, attempting to twist the bundle, while the youngest uses all his strength. Even together, the bundle remains intact.

An old man Peter[/@ch_1]'s eyes soften as he steps forward, his voice gentle and wise.] "You see, alone you are weak, like a single stick. But together, you are strong. No one can break you if you stand by each other," The sons look at their father, understanding dawning in their faces as the weight of his words settles upon them.

The eldest reaches out, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. The middle son laughs, the bitterness fading from his voice, and the youngest grins, eager to mend the rifts. "Let us remember this lesson, and stand together from now on,"

An old man Peter smiles, content, as his sons embrace the wisdom he imparted, their quarrels replaced by harmony and strength.