A Woman stood in front of a big glass panel. Looking through it, she saw rain pouring down, but it could not wash away her sorrow and pain.
After a while, the rain stopped. On the streets below, she saw a man go down on one knee with a ring box, proposing to a young girl holding a pink, flowered bouquet. Her eyes screamed, "Don't believe him." She drifted into her own trail of thoughts until the phone in her office rang, breaking her reverie.
The man on the other end of the line spoke to her: "Hello, Jays. Your father passed away."
Jays "I'm coming home. "
The news came all too suddenly.
Tears trickled down her cheeks, warm against the cold stillness that had taken over her body. Her chest tightened. She couldn't breathe — not properly. The room seemed to shrink around her, every sound muffled by the storm rising inside her.
She wanted the pain to stop.
Wanted the heartache to end.
Wanted, more than anything, to fall apart.
But she couldn't.
Because she was the one who always held everything together.
The one who stayed calm when others shattered. The one who swallowed her grief to become a pillar for everyone else's.
And now, even with the weight of loss pressing into her lungs, she sat in silence. The line had long gone dead.
Still, she stayed there — staring out the window, the world outside carrying on as if nothing had changed. As if her world hadn't just broken open again.