Ashes of Forever

Chapter 5

The sound of the explosion carried further than anyone expected.

A thunderous c***k split the stillness of the countryside afternoon, rolling across fields and rooftops. Birds scattered in frightened clouds from the trees, and within seconds the quiet village was filled with smoke, firelight, and the anguished cries of neighbors who came running toward the narrow road where the accident had happened.

Miriam was the first to notice. She saw the large puff of black smoke rising over the line of trees in the distance. Her heart quickened, though she couldn’t explain why.

“Mummy…” her small voice wavered, “is that smoke?”

Her mother turned, pressing the iron down on the tablecloth to keep it steady. She followed her daughter’s gaze and froze.

“Dear Lord,” she whispered, then louder, “David! Stay inside with your sister!” She dropped the iron where it was and ran for the door, her wrapper sweeping behind her as she disappeared into the yard.

David blinked in confusion. “Why is Mummy running? Is Daddy back?”

But Miriam said nothing. She had already begun to cry, though she didn’t know why. Somewhere deep inside, her father’s laughter from that very morning — the way he had handed her the ring and kissed her forehead — clashed with the sight of that smoke, and it hurt too much to breathe.

Across the street, Samuel stood on his verandah, trembling. He had heard the blast as clearly as anyone, and his little hands shook so violently he could barely hold onto the wooden railing. His mother was in the side watching with a devilish grin.

He wanted to scream, to shout that he knew this was coming, that it was his father’s doing, but his throat was locked. His father’s words haunted him: Good is when you do anyhing you Daddy wants you to do

If he spoke now, would that be good or bad? Would telling the truth save Miriam, or destroy her even more?

Instead, his eyes darted toward her house, and for one painful second, he imagined her father walking back through the door, brushing dust from his shirt, laughing about how the car had broken down. But the smoke outside was too thick, too dark, too final.

By the time the news reached them, Michael was dead.

it was no longer rumor, it was tragedy. Neighbors came running, some crying, others too shocked to speak. Someone shouted, “The car exploded! The fire… it’s too much, too much—”

“He was such a good man”

“Why do the good ones die first”

“Who did he leave his children for”

“What a wicked world”

Painful whispers from grieving neighbours filled the atmosphere.

Miriam’s mother collapsed to her knees, clutching her wrapper against her chest, screaming her husband’s name into the open air as if her voice could drag him back from the flames. David stood beside her, bewildered, tugging at her arm.

“Mummy? Why are you crying? Where’s Daddy? He said he’d be back to help me with my assignment…”

The innocence in his voice sliced through the grief like a knife, and Miriam could not bear it. She stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around her little brother, pressing his face against her shoulder so he wouldn’t see the way their mother broke apart.

Inside, her chest ached with something she couldn’t yet name. It wasn’t only sorrow. It was anger, confusion, a betrayal she didn’t understand. The last words her father had told her - never take it off until you find a man like me - echoed like a curse.

Samuel watched from the shadows of his doorway, his nails digging into his palms until they left marks. His heart ached for Miriam. He wanted to run to her, to hold her hand, to whisper the truth about what he knew. But guilt weighed him down. It was his father’s hands that had twisted the wires, his father’s heart that had chosen greed over friendship.

And wasn’t he part of his father too?

He couldn’t shake Miriam’s face from his mind — the way she had looked at him earlier with quiet confusion when he shouted at her, when he said he didn’t want to be friends anymore. He wanted to take those words back, but he had said them because he thought pushing her away would save her from a heavier grief.

Now it was too late.

As night fell, the small town dimmed with sorrow. Women gathered at Miriam’s house, wailing. Men returned from the roadside, shaking their heads in disbelief, whispering that there was nothing left to bury. Children huddled together in confusion, trying to understand why the adults were crying so hard.

Miriam sat by the window again, clutching the small silver ring her father had given her. She twisted it on her finger, over and over, until her skin turned red. Each time she tried to take it off, her chest tightened and she stopped.

Samuel, from his room, watched her shadow across the way. His mother had forbidden him to go outside — she said the world was too dangerous tonight, that people would ask too many questions. But his heart burned to cross the road, to sit beside Miriam in her grief.

Instead, he opened his journal — the one his father had carelessly left behind. On the page, the words still mocked him: Daniel’s car to blow up on 10 Ave, right in front of the doughnut shop.

He slammed it shut and buried his face in the pillow.

This was only the beginning.

The grief, the pain, the silence between them — it would bind him to Miriam forever. But it would also mark their love as forbidden, born from ashes and secrets no one else could ever know.

The clock kept ticking until the car that was to take his mother and himself to the neighboring city for the holidays finally arrived.

The villagers were still uncertain if Peter was alive — his body had not yet been found. And so, many gathered at Ruth’s house to mourn alongside her.

Ruth appeared devastated and distraught, yet she kept insisting she must embark on her journey with her son.

“Go without knowing your husband’s fate? Go in such a grief-filled state?” people whispered among themselves.

But Samuel knew it was all a façade. And through it all, all he wanted was to see Miriam.

He remembered how he had shut her out.

He thought of how terrible and lonely she must feel right now.

He remembered how helpless he was to help her — and then he collapsed to the ground, wailing so deeply that people gathered around, thinking he mourned only the uncertain fate of his father.

But he knew the truth. His tears were for Miriam for his forever love that had been burned in ashes that very day.

Toward evening, at exactly 5 p.m., the departure car arrived.

“Samuel, let’s go,” his mother called.

He dragged his feet toward the car, his mind torn apart with one thought: should he run to Miriam one last time?

His eyes lifted, almost against his will, and found her across the street by the window. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen from crying, but she was still holding the ring, twisting it like it was the last anchor tying her to her father.

For a heartbeat, the world was quiet — no wails, no whispers, only the heavy silence between them. Samuel pressed his hand against his chest, then lifted it slightly, almost like a wave, but it wasn’t goodbye. It was a plea.

Remember your promise, Miriam. Always laugh. Even when it hurts. Always laugh.

Her gaze met his, and though her lips did not move, her eyes softened, as if she had heard him.

The driver honked impatiently. His mother tugged at his arm.

Samuel turned, his heart heavy, his feet heavier. He climbed into the car, but as it pulled away, he twisted in his seat for one last look. Miriam was still there at the window, holding the ring, her shadow framed against the dimming sky.

He shut his eyes, letting the ache consume him.

The promise lingered between them — fragile, unspoken, but alive.