Chapter 92
He watched from behind the car window, seeing how Shaqar walked slowly along the row of stalls, as if tracing faint memories hidden within the aroma of street food.
Small lights strung above the carts cast a soft glow on his face, giving the impression that the tears from earlier had not fully dried.
One by one, he approached each vendor with movements that were awkward yet sincere, buying a little from every stall he passed—sweet bread, fried snacks, colorful candies in small jars.
No words were exchanged, only simple transactions accompanied by shy smiles, and Apathy inside the car could only observe in silence, wondering whether the earlier crying had truly changed something within his captain, or perhaps merely opened a small space for hunger that had long been suppressed beneath the weight of his burdens.
Time moved slowly.
The wind carried the scent of burnt sugar and aged oil, mingling with the flicker of neon lights trembling against the asphalt.
Apathy leaned back, his chin resting on his hand, watching the figure from afar.
He did not know whether to laugh or sigh, for the scene felt strange yet calming.
Shaqar, who moments ago had nearly broken under emotional pressure, was now so engrossed in choosing snacks, even bargaining a little in a low voice barely audible.
There was something human in that moment, something that reminded Apathy that even a soul as strong as Shaqar still needed the simplest means to mend itself.
And as his thoughts drifted, he wondered if after crying, the human body instinctively demanded balance through the desire to eat, as though trying to replace loss with the most basic pleasure that remained.
When Shaqar finally returned, his hands were full of small shopping bags dangling from both sides.
Apathy watched as his captain placed them carefully into the back of the car, as if each bag contained something valuable.
His face now looked more at ease, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he closed the trunk with a soft thud.
He opened the front door, sat in the driver's seat, and paused to look at the road ahead, as if recalculating the direction of his own life.
Then, without saying a word, he started the engine, letting its gentle hum replace the silence between them.
Apathy turned slightly, noting the newfound liveliness in Shaqar's expression, then looked forward again as the car began to move.
"Take this, Apathy!"
Thud.
"Turn that device on, quickly.Look for Absyumura's number in the contact list—yes, the one saved with a star in front of it.Once you find it, press the call button.Don't say anything, just hand it back to me once it connects."
Beeep—beeep.
"Hurry, before I lose my nerve again."
Shaqar leaned back slightly.
One hand stayed on the wheel while the other reached into his jacket pocket.
Without looking, he tossed his communication device toward Apathy.
The object sailed through the air, spinning slowly before landing on Apathy's lap with a soft thump.
Take this device, Apathy!
His voice was flat, yet a subtle tension lingered beneath it.
Apathy immediately turned the device on, the screen lighting up with a faint blue glow reflecting across his face.
He opened the contact list, scrolling past unfamiliar names until his eyes stopped at one entry.
Absyumura.
"Captain, I've done as you commanded."
Beeep—beeeep.
"Father? Is that really you? Father, you were the one who called, weren't you?"
"...."
In the silence carried by the engine's hum and the distorted flow of time that seemed slower than usual, the device in Shaqar's hand finally stopped ringing.
The dull tone that had filled the car vanished.Suddenly, a connection opened, tearing apart the barrier between two worlds long kept separate.
From the tiny speaker came a rough yet gentle voice, a short call that revealed many long-buried wounds at once—a voice that had never truly disappeared from Shaqar's mind, even when he tried to drown it under years of denial.
The call sounded hesitant and trembling, as if the person on the other end could not fully believe the voice he heard was real.
In the tension that stretched across the air, fragments of Shaqar's past crept closer, forcing him to confront a figure he had kept at an unworthy distance.
Apathy stared from the side, his body stiff, as though afraid that even the smallest movement might shatter something fragile within his companion.
He could see the subtle change in Shaqar's face, the same face that had just calmed from crying now divided again by a new emotional storm.
Anxiety flickered through him, a small storm restrained only by the heavy breaths he struggled to steady.
The voice on the other end carried a worry so undeniable, a concern born not from surprise alone but from an old wound that had never been properly sealed.
Shaqar froze.
The fact that his call had been answered with a tone he had long avoided shocked him.
The voice was no longer fiery, but filled with sincere anxiety—anxiety that proved his existence still mattered, something he had always doubted.
The car kept moving, but the atmosphere inside no longer followed the rhythm of the road.
Shaqar gripped the device tighter, his fingers trembling, his breath caught between the urge to speak and the fear of touching a wound long buried in the depths of his heart.
The voice flowed again, calling him with a deeper tone, as if extending an unseen hand, asking for the honesty he had hidden within silence.
In his mind, memories he had tried to forget surged upward—not in anger, but in a biting regret demanding to be acknowledged.
On the passenger seat, Apathy could feel the emotional current running through the cabin, a tension so dense it felt tangible, a small moment that might seem trivial yet was shaping the direction of both their lives.
"Absyumura, listen carefully.Earlier, I stopped for a bit in front of your house.From afar, the blue roof and the red moss spread across the yard looked exactly the same as before.Unfortunately, I didn't dare come closer. For some reason, my shame is still too deep to ignore."
Hoooooh.
"So instead, I bought some snacks and fruits.I've sent them all through the post office.Your task is simple—make sure everything reaches your house, and hand them directly to Miara.Don't let anyone else receive them."
Huuuuuh—haaaah.
"And one more thing, Absyumura.Among those items, there is a clean white envelope without any marks.Do not give that one away yet.Wait until you are absolutely sure the situation is calm and safe—for me and for Miara.Only then may you open it."
Fsssssh.
"Can you promise me that, my son-in-law?"
The car moved a little faster, as though Shaqar wished to drown whatever nervousness still clung to him.
But now that tension was fading, replaced by a fragile calm that grew slowly as he continued speaking with Absyumura.
The voice on the other end had steadied, and Shaqar himself had begun to shed some of the weight pressing against his chest.
To be continued…