Serena
Two days later, the sun was too bright, the sky too blue like the world was mocking me.
Ari was playing in the small patch of grass behind our building. It wasn’t much just a fenced yard, worn with patches of dirt and weeds—but he loved it.
I could hear his laughter through the open kitchen window as I washed dishes. His giggles rose and fell like music, chasing the wind.
Ma sat at the table, slicing fruit, eyes flicking toward the window every few seconds. She never trusted the quiet. Neither did I.
But I let him play.
I needed to let him play.
He deserved at least one piece of childhood untouched.
Until I realized the laughter had stopped.
I froze, dish in hand. Water running.
No more giggles.
Just… silence.
Then the wind blew, and I heard it—something faint. A thump.
