My name is Riyan Solas.
I'm seventeen.
And today…
I decided to die.
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I stood on the rooftop of my old school,
toes hanging just past the edge,
staring at the street below.
No one would miss me.
No one ever did.
I wasn't special.
I wasn't strong.
I wasn't loved.
After my parents died in a car crash when I was five,
the world turned gray.
I was bullied for being poor.
Ignored for being quiet.
Even the teachers stopped calling my name.
The only person who ever believed in me…
was my grandfather — Kairon Solas.
He worked in a factory,
with worn hands and tired bones,
just to keep food on the table.
> "Live your life, Riyan," he always said.
"Make friends. Laugh loud. Be more than I was."
But I couldn't.
I was scared — of people, of failing, of being seen.
So I lived like a shadow.
Quiet. Alone.
Then… he died too.
That was the last thread holding me here.
So I came to the rooftop.
And I decided: This is it.
This is where it ends.
But just before I stepped off the ledge…
I heard his voice.
Soft. Warm.
Full of hope.
> "Live, Riyan."
And something broke inside me.
I didn't fall.
I fell to my knees.
And for the first time in years…
I cried.