The house was big.
Too big for just me.
But it wasn't the walls or the empty rooms that weighed on me—it was them. My parents.
Without them, every corner felt hollow, every hallway a reminder of the space they once filled.
Mira still moved through it, keeping everything alive: clean, warm, steady. She kept the place from feeling like a mausoleum. Still, no matter how much life she breathed into it, the house always felt like it had a hollow center.
Because it was a home built for a family. And now, that family was broken.
The dining room was spacious, elegant without feeling intimidating. At its center, a wide wooden table gleamed, catching the morning light like a calm, golden river. High-backed chairs lined its sides, carved with subtle patterns—craftsmanship over extravagance. The warm hardwood floor was smooth underfoot, the soft cream walls broken only by a few framed landscapes. Sunlight poured through tall windows, brushing the table and chairs, making the room feel alive yet serene—a space meant for family, conversation, moments that could linger, if only briefly.
Once, I sat between them, my father at the head, my mother laughing beside him. Now only two plates waited, one already cleared away.
Boiled eggs. Sliced bread. Steam curled upward like ghosts from the plates.
I sat and ate quickly, though not carelessly. My mind didn't wander; the dream was locked away, tucked behind a thin veil of morning light.
In less than ten minutes, I was done. Ready.
Before stepping out, I glanced back toward the kitchen. Mira stood at the counter, humming softly as she moved through the motions of cleaning. Her eyes caught mine for a moment, gentle and quiet, as if sensing the weight I carried even in silence.
"Is there anything you need?"
"No, really. I just wanted to say the food was great,like always." I said, my voice steady.
"Glad you enjoyed it, mast… Neriah." She caught herself, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
I shook my head, smiling slightly. She never stops.
I hoped the word "master" wouldn't slip from her lips again after two days.
"I'll be heading out now,"I said as walked to the doorway, slipping on my sneakers. When I was ready, I stood, taking a deep breath, and prepared to step outside.
"Don't stay out too late," her voice called from my back. "And… if you can, come back for lunch. I'll have it ready."
Hearing her say my name like that still felt new. Warmer.
"I'll try," I said.
Before stepping out, I turned back. Mira had stepped closer, eyes filled with quiet worry.
"And… Neriah… be careful out there."
I met her gaze, steady. "I will."
Then I opened the door and stepped outside, walking toward the gate of our house. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of morning dew. The sky was grey, streaked with hints of blue, as if the city itself was holding its breath. Another day in Elexer a city that never stopped moving, never paused, never waited for anyone.
But today… something felt different.
Time for a small adventure, to regain a piece of me I'd lost in the city.
I first needed air, a place that could clear my mind, a pocket of calm away from the relentless pulse of the city… somewhere the weight in my chest could ease, if only for a while.
---
At the roadside, I flagged down a taxi. The driver didn't speak, and neither did I.
Through the window, Elexer slid past in fragments: glass towers catching pale light, crowded streets where vendors shouted over the roar of engines, alleys where shadows clung too long. The city never stopped moving, but to me, it all felt muted, like I was watching someone else's life pass by.
When the car stopped, I stepped out before a tall black gate.
Even before going in, I could feel it—the breeze, like a hand pulling me from the darkness. The wind danced through the trees as if welcoming me back.
It was a park, small but alive in a way my house never was.
From where I stood at the gate, the city noise seemed to fade, muffled by the trees within. The breeze slipped through the iron bars, cool and faintly carrying the scent of grass and damp earth.
It lay tucked into a corner of the city, pressed between towering glass and concrete giants. At its center, a lake shimmered under the morning sun, its ripples scattering reflections of the surrounding buildings like fractured mirrors.
On the left, a wide strip of concrete ran along the lake, fenced off from the water by a low black barrier. Benches were spaced evenly along the edge, and people sat quietly, some alone, some talking in hushed voices. A second fence separated this cement area from the grassy expanse beyond, marking a clear boundary between the two worlds.
To the right, the lake shore was alive with movement. People played along the water's edge, while the grass spread wide and soft, dotted with picnics. Children chased one another, their laughter ringing through the air, and bikes wove in and out of the open space. Dogs darted between their legs as families laughed and played.
Small pathways curved gently through the park, guiding visitors past clusters of trees, each standing alone or in pairs, their branches reaching skyward, casting dappled shadows on the ground. A winding road threaded along the tree-lined paths, sunlight filtering through leaves in delicate patterns. Tall lamp posts lined the road, their black iron matching the fence that enclosed the park. The city pressed close. Cars roared along streets, their sounds colliding with children's laughter and the rustle of leaves. Inside the park, though, the air carried only grass, water, and sunlight—a pocket of calm amid Elexer's relentless pulse.
It was framed by the city and the black fence, alive yet contained. A place where even someone like me could almost forget the shadows I carried.
It was peaceful. Too peaceful.
Like a lake frozen in time, holding its breath before the first drop of rain fell.
Beautiful, but fragile, like it could shatter at any moment—and all the darkness I carried might rush back in.
I wished my nightmares would end up with this light.
For a moment, I let the silence sink into me—the kind that pressed soft against the chest instead of crushing it. The breeze carried laughter across the grass, and I almost let myself believe this peace was real, something I could hold onto.
"This is amazing," a voice said, as if the world had just been handed to him. I hadn't even noticed him; my attention had been all on the park… until he spoke, but somehow it fit the way he looked, like he belonged to this moment.