His grandmother dying was the moment everything inside him broke. He tried to live after that, but life no longer felt real. He tried to keep going, to pretend that he was fine, but every step forward only pushed him deeper into pain. His memories were no longer just memories — they were slowly killing him from the inside.
Every day, those memories kept repeating themselves in his mind. They made him disappear little by little, like he was fading from his own life. It felt as if he had never truly been there. His gang surrounded him, shouted his name, tried to pull him back into their world, and pretended to support him — but it was already too late.
He was already dead inside.
His soul had died the day his grandmother died.
He lost the last bit of hope the day Lia and Aryan disappeared from his life, as if they had never existed at all. After that, nothing felt worth holding on to.
He couldn't eat.
He couldn't sleep.
He couldn't do anything properly.
His body grew weak, and his mind slowly gave up. Day by day, he became quieter, emptier, more distant. And one day, even his gang left him. They abandoned him because he was weak — because he was no longer useful to them.
They said they didn't want him to suffer anymore.
They said they didn't want him to hold them back.
So they left.
Zayan didn't care.
He never did.
By then, he had already become numb to everything. Every emotion inside him was fading. He felt more dead with each passing day, barely reacting to anything around him. Weeks passed, and he barely noticed time moving.
In just two weeks, he stopped feeling like a living person at all.
He simply existed — breathing, walking, and waiting — without knowing what he was waiting for . . ..