Untitled Episode
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EPISODE 2 – WHEN EVERYTHING WAS TAKEN
(Amara’s POV)
The days after my father died felt slow and heavy, like time itself didn’t want to move anymore.
Our house used to be full of life. There was always laughter, music, or my dad’s voice calling someone from another room. But now the house felt empty. The silence was so loud that sometimes it made my chest hurt.
I sat on the couch in the living room staring at the floor. I hadn’t slept properly in days. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the last morning we spent together.
The pancakes.
David talking about soccer.
My dad smiling and calling me his princess.
It felt like that life belonged to someone else.
Across the room, my younger brother David sat quietly. He was holding Dad’s old wristwatch. He kept turning it slowly in his hands like he was trying to understand something that didn’t make sense.
Mom walked slowly into the living room. She looked exhausted. Her eyes were red from crying.
“Kids,” she said softly.
I looked up.
“Yes, Mom?”
Before she could say anything, there was a loud knock on the door.
I frowned.
“I’ll get it,” I said.
When I opened the door, my body froze.
Standing outside were several of my father’s relatives.
My uncle — Dad’s older brother — stood in front. Two of my cousins stood behind him with serious faces.
Something about the way they were looking at us made me uncomfortable.
“Good afternoon,” my uncle said.
I stepped aside slowly, and they walked into the house without smiling.
David looked up from the couch.
“What’s going on?” he whispered to me.
“I don’t know,” I whispered back.
Mom stood up nervously.
“Why are you all here?” she asked.
My uncle cleared his throat and sat down in the big chair that used to belong to my father.
Seeing him sit there made my chest tighten.
“Now that your husband is gone,” he began slowly, “we need to discuss the family property.”
I frowned.
“What property?” I asked.
“The house. The land. His business assets,” my uncle replied calmly.
Mom’s face changed.
“What about them?”
My uncle folded his hands.
“In our family tradition, when a man dies, his property returns to the male side of the family.”
The room went silent.
My heart started beating faster.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
My uncle looked straight at Mom.
“This house now belongs to the family.”
I stood up quickly.
“That’s not true!” I said. “My dad bought this house!”
One of my cousins stepped forward.
“But he was part of the family. That means the property belongs to the family too.”
David looked confused.
“So… what does that mean?” he asked quietly.
My uncle answered in a cold voice.
“It means you will have to leave.”
For a moment I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.
“Leave?” I repeated.
“Yes.”
Mom looked shocked.
“You can’t be serious,” she said.
But my uncle’s face didn’t change.
“You have one week,” he said firmly.
“One week?” I shouted. “Our father just died!”
My uncle stood up.
“Take what belongs to you. Clothes and personal items. But the house stays.”
Tears filled David’s eyes.
“This is our home,” he said softly.
No one answered him.
The relatives walked toward the door.
Before leaving, my uncle turned back.
“Be out by the end of the week,” he said.
Then they left.
The door closed.
And the silence returned.
David suddenly burst into tears.
“It’s not fair!” he cried. “Dad just died!”
I hugged him tightly, trying to stay strong even though my own heart was breaking.
Mom slowly sat down and covered her face with her hands.
Everything felt like it was falling apart.
First our father.
Now our home.
The next few days were painful.
We packed our things into boxes and bags. Every part of the house reminded me of Dad.
His favorite chair.
His books.
His coffee mug.
While packing the closet, I found one of his jackets. I held it tightly and breathed in the faint smell of his cologne.
For a moment it felt like he was still there.
David refused to pack Dad’s clothes.
“I want them to stay here,” he said quietly.
I knelt beside him.
“We’ll take them with us,” I told him gently.
“But this is Dad’s house,” he whispered.
I didn’t know what to say.
By the end of the week, we left.
Standing outside the gate, I looked back one last time at the house.
The place that used to feel safe now felt like something we had lost forever.
David wiped his eyes.
“I hate them,” he muttered.
I stayed silent.
Mom drove us to a small apartment on the other side of the city.
The building looked old and worn out.
Inside, the apartment was tiny. The paint on the walls was peeling, and the windows shook whenever the wind blew.
“This is only temporary,” Mom said.
I nodded.
But I could see the worry in her eyes.
Money was already becoming a problem.
A few days later, Mom called us to the small table in the living room.
“I want to show you something,” she said.
She opened a small folder.
Inside were three passports.
And inside the passports were visas.
My eyes widened.
“The Canada visas,” I said.
Months ago, Dad had applied for them. He always believed that one day we would move to Canada for a better future.
But the plan was supposed to happen much later.
David looked confused.
“Are we going now?” he asked.
Mom sighed.
“I don’t know yet,” she said honestly. “Traveling is expensive. Plane tickets cost a lot of money.”
I understood immediately.
We barely had enough money to survive.
Traveling to another country felt impossible.
“But your father wanted us to go one day,” Mom said softly.
I looked at the visas again.
Dad had held these passports in his hands.
He had dreamed about our future.
David looked down.
“I’m scared,” he said quietly.
I placed my hand on his shoulder.
“Me too,” I admitted.
“But maybe Canada could be a new start.”
Mom nodded slowly.
“For now we work and save money,” she said.
“And when we have enough… we leave.”
The weeks that followed were difficult.
Mom took small jobs wherever she could.
I helped by running errands for neighbors and helping local shops.
All the money we earned went into a small envelope hidden in a drawer.
Plane tickets.
That was the goal.
Sometimes at night I stared out the small apartment window and imagined Canada.
I had seen pictures before.
Wide streets.
Tall buildings.
Snow during winter.
It felt like another world.
But maybe that world was waiting for us.
One night David sat beside me.
“Do you think Dad knew this would happen?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“No,” I said softly.
“But I think he believed we would be strong.”
David nodded slowly.
“Then we should go,” he said.
I looked at the envelope holding the money we were saving.
It wasn’t much yet.
But it was a beginning.
Far away, across the ocean, a new life was waiting for us.
A life we had never imagined.
- Writer
