" Arnesians had a dozen ways to say hello, but no word for good-bye.
When it came to parting ways, they sometimes said vas ir, which meant in peace, but more often they chose to say anoshe—until another day.
Anoshe was a word for strangers in the street, and lovers between meetings, for parents and children, friends and family. It softened the blow of leaving. Eased the strain of parting. A careful nod to the certainty of today, the mystery of tomorrow. When a friend left, with little chance of seeing home, they said anoshe. When a loved one was dying, they said anoshe. When corpses were burned, bodies given back to the earth and souls to the stream, those left grieving said anoshe. Anoshe brought solace. And hope. And the strength to let go. "

― V.E. Schwab , A Conjuring of Light (Shades of Magic, #3)