The night air was too still.
A thick, suffocating silence pressed against my chest as I sat by my father's bedside, the dim glow of the oil lamp barely illuminating the deep lines carved into his fragile face.
His breathing was shallow again—more labored than before.
Each rise and fall of his chest felt like a countdown, every second slipping through my fingers faster than I could grasp.
"Dad…" My voice broke as I reached for his cold, trembling hand.
His eyelids fluttered open, his gaze unfocused.
But then, just for a brief moment, his eyes found mine.
"You… you did good, child…" he rasped, his voice barely audible.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
"No, Dad. I didn't do enough… I couldn't save you."
His thin fingers tightened weakly around mine.
"You survived… that's enough…"
His lips moved again, trying to say something more, but no sound came. His chest heaved once… twice…
And then…
Stillness.
My world shattered in that breathless second.
I didn't remember screaming.
But the raw pain that tore through my throat told me I had.
The girls woke up, their frightened cries blending with my own.
I gathered them into my arms, rocking them against my trembling body as if I could shield them from the unbearable weight of loss.
And when their sobs finally quieted into exhausted whimpers, I sat there in the dark, holding them close…
Wondering how much more a person could break before nothing was left to shatter.
By dawn, I was numb.
The official notice from the bank came that morning—cold, emotionless words printed on thin paper.
Vacate within seven days.
The house was no longer ours.
Just as I sat by the old front door, staring out into the rising sun with hollow eyes, that same low, familiar hum of an engine echoed through the narrow street.
This time, I didn't look away.
A sleek, black car pulled to a slow stop by the gate.
The window rolled down…
And there he was.
Not just a passerby.
Not just a coincidence.
In that moment, I realized—
This man wasn't just near.
He had been watching over us all along.