Night had begun when Koran left with his mother after the cake.
The streets were still slowly crawling with life—
not dead, but quiet.
The road wasn't long,
but tonight… it felt different.
Streetlights cast a soft glow on the pavement,
mixed with the scent of sweet bread from the nearby bakeries
and the fragrance of flowers planted by the neighborhood's residents
on their balconies.
Koran's mother laughed as she held onto his arm lightly,
as if, for a moment, she had let go of the years' burdens.
> "I didn't expect I'd ever go out like this again…
I feel like a girl again."
She said it with a faint laugh, and Koran responded with a smile—
pretending to stay composed.
> "The world doesn't need much to be fixed—just a little cake."
He replied, watching how her eyes sparkled under the light.
They passed a small candy shop, and suddenly his mother stopped,
staring at its storefront.
> "Do you remember this place?
I used to buy you sweets from here when you were small."
She said it warmly, and Koran laughed:
> "Yes… and I remember how you embarrassed me every time
by insisting on buying everything."
They continued walking, exchanging small jokes and laughter
as if time itself was moving backwards.
Sometimes, Koran would toss silly jokes just to make her laugh—
and sometimes he'd fail, and they'd laugh together at that failure.
The air was slightly cold,
but the warmth of their conversation and laughter covered it.
At one moment, his mother paused to catch her breath.
(Smiling – Koran:)
> "May I officially request to carry you on my back?"
She laughed, still holding his arm, and said:
> "If you do, you might break your back before we reach the end of the street."
Koran smiled with strange, true happiness inside,
a rare kind.
> "Why does everything feel so easy tonight?"
He wondered inside, though he didn't want to think too much—
he just wanted the warmth to last.
As they neared the house, they laughed again, this time more freely—
for the first time in years,
a laugh that didn't resemble anything else.
Before they entered, Koran turned to her and said,
with a sincere tone:
> "We'll do this again… I promise."
And he whispered:
"Many times, tonight…"
Even after they returned to the house,
the laughter still filled their chests,
as if they had left their worries in the streets.
Koran helped his mother take off her coat, then turned to her, smiling:
> "Are you okay now?"
She nodded with a soft smile:
> "Better than any time before…
Thank you, my son."
She was about to say something else,
but yawned and covered her mouth.
Koran laughed and joked:
> "Seems like cake and laughter make you sleepy too."
His mother laughed but didn't argue.
She sat gently on the couch, leaning into the cushion.
Her eyes began to close slowly.
Koran smiled, approached her, and pulled a light blanket over her.
He stood watching her—
seeing her peaceful face for the first time in years,
like a young woman again, unaware of the world,
calm… safe.
> "I haven't seen her this peaceful in years."
He whispered to himself with a real smile on his lips,
filled with pride and contentment.
And in that moment,
a familiar voice echoed from outside—
(Excited – Voice from outside:)
> "Koran! Everyone's out! The festival's starting!"
It was the usual loud voice of Timo,
echoing through their open window.
Koran turned toward the door,
then looked back at his mother.
He approached her quietly,
leaned down and whispered softly into her ear:
> "Don't worry… I'll celebrate a little. For you."
Then he kissed her forehead gently,
as if it were a farewell ritual.
He walked out of the house quietly,
closing the door gently behind him.
Outside, Timo stood with a wide, enthusiastic grin, waving both hands:
> "Hey! Are you gonna miss the festival of dreams?!
All the fun is out here!"
Koran smiled,
his heart filled with a strange sense of peace,
and decided to let the night give him this moment.
> "I don't know why… but life started to smile in my face all of a sudden."
He said it while laughing lightly,
as if even he didn't believe his own words.
> "Then let's make this night crazy!"
Timo said, putting his arm around Koran's shoulder and pulling him into the crowd.
They both ran into the decorated streets,
laughing, chatting,
and for the first time in a long time—
Koran ate sweets without guilt.
He forgot everything:
his worries, his father, the burdens buried in his chest.
There was nothing but light, laughter,
and the crowd celebrating in every corner.
That night was filled with warmth.
It looked like a beautiful dream.
Koran and Timo ran between the festival stalls,
holding sticks of cotton candy,
voices loud,
colored lights shining between their fingers.
Music blared through the streets,
lights danced with the crowd,
people laughing, swaying in circles of folk dances.
The scent of sweet fruit, warm bread,
and the lamps strung across both sides of the road
cast a glowing warmth over the happy faces.
Timo was jumping from one platform to another like a madman, dragging Koran behind him—
laughing even between his gasps.
> "Koran! Did you see that game? We're winning the grand prize tonight!"
He pointed to a giant game machine.
> "It depends on luck," Koran laughed sarcastically.
"We'll go broke before the night ends, you maniac."
> "Doesn't matter! The whole world's celebrating tonight!"
Timo shouted, lifting his arms to the sky like a child.
Koran laughed and looked up too—
the sky bursting with red, blue, and violet fireworks,
drawing hidden messages across the heavens.
In that moment, Koran laughed:
> "Maybe… the world isn't so bad after all."
He didn't realize it was the first time he'd smiled sincerely in years.
Then…
In a single moment, amidst the colors and laughter—
a strange flash shimmered in the sky.
It wasn't like the fireworks.
The air froze.
It was cold, harsh, white.
The laughter stopped.
A faint sound, like a hum or a muffled rumble, was heard from afar.
At first, no one understood it.
Then came the screaming.
The flash turned into a roar—
a deep bellow like a creature,
shaking everything, though unseen.
The ground trembled beneath their feet,
buildings started to crack—
voices began to scream.
Then—
a deafening crash.
An explosion without color or sound at first,
as if it swallowed everything in a moment.
Glass shattered,
bodies flung into the air,
people screaming as they ran through the streets—
no one understood anything.
In the midst of it all, Koran froze.
He could no longer see anything but white fog covering the sky.
People ran like shadows scattered.
Everything started to collapse—
slowly, slowly, like a mercy-less force.
And behind all the destruction,
through the screams,
a voice still echoed—
Timo's voice:
> "Koran!!! Koran!!"
But Koran's inner voice whispered, motionless:
> "I smiled… just for a moment…
Why does the world seem like it wants revenge?
Is she… okay?"