From the time I died, I finally understood the truth.
Their love… had never been mine.
The world was quiet, except for the ringing in my ears — a sound like the stars themselves screaming. My body lay twisted under the shattered archway, breath shallow, blood staining the stone beneath me. Somewhere, fire crackled. Somewhere, the sky broke open.
But all I could do was stare at the silhouette in the distance.
My mother. My father.
They didn't run to me.
They just stood there. Watching. As if… this was expected.
My vision blurred. Tears or blood — I couldn't tell anymore.
"So even now," I thought, "this is all I ever was. A weight they bore. A threat they contained. A mistake they managed."
I had screamed for them when I was small. Begged. Dreamed. Hoped.
But love — real love — never came. Not for me.
Only silence.