It was a bright morning—the kind that usually promised peace. Birds chirped faintly. The sunlight filtered gently through the window blinds. Jack was adjusting his tie in the mirror, expression blank, when—
A scream.
Sharp. Broken. Raw.
"JASMINE." He bolted.
His door slammed open. Feet pounded the wooden floor. He found her—collapsed beside the bed, fists clenched into the sheets, her cries cutting through the stillness like knives.
Granny lay motionless.
Still.
Cold.
Gone.
The room felt like it had no oxygen. The walls, too quiet. Time moved, but Jack didn't.
Neighbors rushed in, their concerned voices rising in waves behind him—"Call someone!" —"She's gone..." —but it all blurred, like a scene underwater.
But Jack remained there—shadowed in the corner of the room, still as stone.
A boy who had seen too much loss to feel it anymore.
And for the life of him, he didn't know why.
His gaze locked onto the frail body on the bed.
Granny.
The only one who had offered him warmth without a mask.
Kindness without a price.
Her hands lay folded, trembling no more.
Her face was at peace—a soft smile frozen by time, as if she'd simply drifted away into the arms of a gentle dream.
Jasmine knelt beside her, clinging to her sleeve.
"Please wake up... please..."
Her whispers cracked like glass, broken between sobs.
Jack watched her.
Watched the pain spill out of her like waves crashing endlessly.
He wanted to reach for her—say something, anything—but his body... wouldn't move.
His breathing remained calm.
Too calm.
Like a machine still running after the soul had left.
The room blurred behind him.
Neighbors murmured.
Hands on Jasmine's shoulders.
Eyes darting toward Jack.
"Is he in shock?" someone whispered.
But he wasn't.
There were no tears.
No trembling.
No screams lodged in his throat.
Just that quiet voice in his mind.
"Why does this keep happening?"
Not rage.
Not sorrow.
Just that familiar, crushing stillness.
The kind you carry when you've already buried too many feelings...
And forgotten where.
Something in him had long since broken.
Or maybe—shut off.
And now, all that remained...
Was silence.
Two years had passed since Granny's quiet farewell beneath the earth — and since then, time had moved on, but not all hearts had.
Jasmine now ran the little herbal shop in the city, the same one Granny once held with trembling but wise hands. The shelves were always neat, the scent of dried leaves hung in the air, and behind the counter sat a girl who smiled at customers... and cried when no one was looking. She worked with care, but every corner of that shop echoed with memories she wasn't ready to erase.
Meanwhile, Jack had vanished into the dust — a small, mining village tucked into the ribs of the countryside.
It was the last place anyone expected someone like him. Not a fighter. Not a talker. Just a boy with empty eyes and silent resolve.
They called him "The Weakest Miner."
Not cruelly. Just honestly.
He struggled with the tools. His frame was lean. Every strike of his pickaxe echoed his limits. But he never stopped. Never complained. Never missed a shift.
He worked like someone who owed the world a debt they couldn't explain.
The manager let him stay.
Not because Jack was useful.
But because there was something in his eyes — like a ghost still trying to live.
Jasmine and Jack? They barely spoke. A short call once a week, sometimes a letter. Formal. Surface-level. Like two people pretending not to miss each other too loudly.
Jasmine tried not to cry when his letters arrived. Jack tried not to reread hers too often. They were connected by a thin thread neither of them dared pull.
And Jack...
He kept his distance.
Not out of pride. But because he believed pain was something he should carry alone.
Because deep down, he thought:
"If I ever lean on someone again... they might break too."
So he worked.
Day in. Day out.
As the world forgot his name — he remembered everyone else's.
And that was enough.
For now.
One afternoon, Jack and the rest of the mining crew filed into the freshly approved cave to start their shift. Everything felt routine—just another day of grueling labor.
Until a low rumble began like a distant growl—ignored at first, until the cave floor lurched beneath their feet like a beast waking from a thousand-year slumber.
CRACK.
Stone groaned. Walls shook. Helmets clattered as the miners stumbled. Then—chaos. The air filled with dust and screams as the mountain began to collapse inward.
"Everyone out!" someone ,shouted.
Jack turned to run with the others, but fate struck fast. A massive boulder—merciless, ancient—fell from above like a judgment, crushing his leg beneath it. He screamed, raw and agonized, his voice swallowed by the cave's fury.
The others rushed to him—panic in their eyes, hands gripping the stone. They pushed, yelled, cursed. But the rock wouldn't move. Not even a fraction.
One man backed away, voice shaking.
"My child is too young to be fatherless... I'm sorry."
Another turned, tears in his eyes.
"We'll die if we stay!"
They ran.
One by one.
All of them.
Even the ones who once shared jokes with him at lunch.
Even the ones he called friends.
Jack lay there, dust settling, silence blooming like a disease. The exit caved in—sealed.
Darkness swallowed everything.
He was alone.
Again.
Breathing hard, chest heaving, he bit his lip to keep from sobbing. But the pain wasn't just from his shattered leg—it was the familiar weight of abandonment.
"Why?"
His whisper bounced off the cave walls like a cruel echo.
"Why does it always end like this?"
He dug his fingers into the dirt, gripping his miner's pick like it was the only thing anchoring him to this world.
"I trained... I bled... I suffered... just to stand on my own.
His voice cracked.
"And I still end up like this?"
He let out a bitter laugh—hollow, quiet.
"Guess hard work doesn't change fate. Guess some people are just born to be left behind."
The darkness pressed closer. The silence grew louder. His heartbeat slowed.
All in that Suffocating black.