Hana woke to the sound of silence.
The storm was gone, but the house felt colder without her father's humming. The floorboards creaked under her bare feet as she wandered the empty hallway, clutching her teddy bear.
Her father's slippers were still by the door. His jacket hung crookedly on the hook. It was as if he would walk back in any second, flashing that lopsided smile that only she understood.
But he wouldn't. Not tonight.
Hana sank into the couch, burying her face in the cushions. And as she did, a memory clawed its way back—the memory she could never escape
It had been a bright afternoon, months ago. Hana had been playing by the riverbank near their neighborhood. Her father, always overprotective but clumsy, had been following close behind, carrying a plastic bag full of snacks.
"Careful, Hana," he had said in his broken, childlike way. "Water… dangerous."
She had giggled, dipping her toes in the current. But then the ground gave way. The wet soil crumbled, and Hana slipped.
The world turned upside down. Cold water swallowed her screams. She remembered thrashing, reaching for light, lungs burning. The current dragged her under, filling her throat with mud and water.
Then—arms. Strong but trembling. Her father's arms. He had jumped in without hesitation, pulling her up, coughing, crying, holding her against his chest.
But the damage had been done.
By the time the neighbors helped drag them both onto dry land, Hana's voice was gone. She tried to call out, to say Daddy, but no sound came. Only a raw ache in her throat.
Doctors said the water had scarred her vocal cords. Maybe, one day, she could speak again. But maybe not.
Her father cried harder than she did. "My fault… my fault…" he kept repeating, pounding his fists against his chest.
Hana had touched his cheek with her tiny hand and smiled, trying to tell him she didn't blame him. But her silence only made his guilt heavier
Now, curled on the couch, Hana pressed her teddy bear to her chest. The memory of that day burned behind her eyes. She had lost her voice, yes. But she had never lost her father. He had saved her life, even at the cost of her happiness.
And now, the world wanted to take him away.
Her fists tightened.
No. She wouldn't let them.
If she had to fight the whole world with only her silence, then so be it.
She had survived the river once. She would survive this too.
And she would save her father.