Ashes of Forever

Chapter 4

Miriam returned home with the late afternoon sun warming her shoulders. Behind her, the road lay hushed, too quiet, as though it had swallowed the voices that had filled the morning.

Inside, the table still bore the marks of earlier excitement—half-drunk cups, a lone piece of yam, and the napkin where her mother had dabbed her eyes after laughing at her father’s jokes. It felt too normal, like a photograph taken a moment before a storm.

“Come, my dear,” her mother said, tightening her wrapper. “Let’s clear the table.”

Miriam slipped off her sandals and joined her. The clink of cups filled the room. David ran in, dragging a stool, eager to help.

“Put the spoons in the blue bowl,” their mother said, then lit the charcoal iron by the window. “We must press your uniforms before evening. No excuses tomorrow.”

David hesitated, clutching a book. “But I’m waiting for Daddy. He promised to help me with my assignment.”

Her mother softened. “I know you miss him already. We’ll look at it together.”

David’s mouth twisted bravely. Miriam ruffled his hair. “I’ll help too.”

Yet her thoughts kept drifting to Samuel. She remembered how he’d stood at the edge of his yard earlier, pale and restless, lips pressed white. He had wanted to say something and hadn’t. Why so sad, if he was only going on holiday?

“Why the long face?” her mother asked.

“Nothing, Mama,” Miriam replied too quickly.

Across the road, Samuel stood in his doorway while his mother folded clothes into a travel bag. Her hands moved fast, eyes fixed on the fabric as though folding could silence the noise in her chest.

“Mummy,” Samuel blurted, “can you call Miriam’s daddy back?”

She froze. “Why?”

“Because—” The words burst out. “Because I know he will die!”

“Samuel!” Her voice cracked, sharp with fear. “Never say that. God forbid!” She clutched him tight. “Your father is on the road with his friend. They’ll be fine.”

Ruth had no idea that Samuel was in the custody of his Father's books so she tried to act normal and motherly

But Samuel trembled in her arms. He could still see the words from his father’s journal, words that marked out death-like coordinates on a map. If he couldn’t stop it, he thought, at least he could keep Miriam from waiting in vain.

He broke from her arms, ran to his room, then moments later burst back out and pounded on Miriam’s door.

She opened it, startled but smiling. “Samuel! I—”

“Why do you always scribble in my notes?” he snapped, voice too loud. “I don’t want to be friends with you again. Stop coming to our house. Stop saving me fish pie. Just… stop.”

Miriam blinked, hurt filling her face. “Samuel, this isn’t you. What happened?”

“Nothing! Just leave me alone.”

He spun and ran before she could see the tears in his eyes. Behind him, Miriam touched the small ring her father had given her. Something inside her whispered that this fracture was deeper than Samuel’s words.

She wasn't letting go very easily

“I’ll come see you before you travel!” she called after him, but he didn’t turn back.

Far down the road, Michael drove steady, eyes fixed on the fading horizon. Beside him sat Peter—Samuel’s father—quiet, restless fingers worrying around the pockets of his trousers. His mind circled back to the journal he had lost, though the words still were very clear in his mind - the doughnut shop.

“Thinking?” Michael asked, cheerful.

“Just the city,” Peter muttered.

“What comes next is good,” Michael said warmly. “Our children already like each other. Maybe one day we’ll truly be family.”

Peter forced a smile, but the word family snagged like a thorn. Up ahead, the signpost loomed near the doughnut shop. His chest constricted.

“Brother,” he said lightly, “drop me here. I’ll walk and meet you at the sign.”

“It’s close. You could just wait—”

“Ah, my back,” Peter cut in, patting himself. “Two minutes only.”

Michael slowed. Dust curled around the tire rims. Peter climbed out, waved, and stepped back. “See you at the signpost!”

The car moved again. Alone now, Michael hummed a baby song under his breath. He thought of Miriam, of David, of the little ring his daughter cradled so proudly. His heart swelled with gratitude.

The signpost appeared ahead, cheerful with its painted pink doughnut. The car coughed, then stuttered to a stop. Michael sighed, tried the ignition—nothing. Irritated but calm, he stepped out to check the wheel.

His phone buzzed: a message from David. I miss you already, Daddy.

Michael chuckled, warmth filling his chest. He pocketed the phone and crouched beside the car.

From the curve ahead, Peter stood very still, heart thudding. The air itself seemed to wait.

Then came the spark.

Light. Heat. A sudden blistering sun.

The explosion swallowed the car, metal torn open in a roaring bloom of fire. The doughnut sign grinned above the flames licked through dust and air. The blast thundered across the road, rattling windows and shaking houses.

Peter flinched, breath stolen. He had arranged this—for profit, for pride—and now watched his friend burn in the furnace he had lit. No turning back now, his heart pounded.

Back home, Miriam froze, eyes snapping to the window as if she could see the fire through walls. David looked up, his question dying on his lips. Their mother’s hand trembled above a crease.

And in that instant, a promise, a friendship, and a hope were torn apart, suddenly and violently, like metal breaking.

Across the road, Samuel’s house shook. His mother’s bag toppled, spilling clothes across the floor. Samuel burst outside. The sky was ripped by smoke, black and towering. His chest seized. He knew. He had said it. And still, he had failed.

He fell to his knees, fists pressed against his eyes. Guilt coiled like a brand inside him. Behind him, his mother called his name, her voice breaking, but Samuel could not answer. All he could do was stare at the sky’s wound and know their lives would never be the same.