At the hospital,
two figures appear in the corridor—
a man and a woman.
Eyes bloodshot.
Hair disheveled.
Faces pale, drained of life.
They don't speak.
They just hold each other, barely standing.
It looks like if someone touched them—just lightly—they'd shatter.
Not physically.
But deep, deep inside.
They walk slowly.
Each step is a battle.
The hallway between them and the room where their son lies
feels like an endless mountain.
Tears stream from their eyes, and with every step,
those tears fall faster.
And their steps become slower.
Finally,
they reach the door.
The old man places a trembling hand on the handle.
In his eyes,
there is still a flicker of hope.
A tiny spark.
That maybe—
By some miracle...
By some unseen power...
By anything divine...
What waits behind this door is not death.
But life.
That their son is still breathing.
Still waiting to call out—
"Papa... Maa…"
But the door opens.
And with it—
that hope dies.
Inside, a young man lies motionless on the hospital bed.
No breath.
No voice.
No future.
Just a body…
where dreams once lived.
They rush to him.
The mother falls at his side, grabbing his lifeless hand.
Tears pouring down her face.
She lays her head on his shoulder and sobs from her soul.
"Why, my son… why?"
"Why did you have to go before me?"
"If there is a God, please… please… take my life… but give him back… please… aahhh—aaaahhh…"
The father stands at the foot of the bed, holding his son's hand in both of his own.
His voice breaks like dry wood—
"Son... haaa...
You know what the heaviest thing in this world is for a father?"
"It's not lifting weight... it's carrying his own son's body…"
"You knew that… and still… you left me... Why?"
His voice crumbles into sobs.
-----------
Moments later, the door opens again.
A young man, around 25, rushes in.
He's dressed in a school uniform—drenched in sweat,
like he's been running since forever.
Beside him walks a little girl, no older than six,
holding a tiny teddy bear.
They step into the room.
She doesn't understand.
Not fully.
But when she sees her parents crying on the floor,
when she sees the man in the bed not moving—
her eyes fill with tears.
She runs to her mother and hugs her tightly.
"Mumma… please stop crying.
Please stop…"
The mother tries to stop.
She wants to.
But there is no will,
no strength left inside her to stop the storm.
The brother stands still—
frozen.
His mind floods with memories:
Laughing.
Fighting.
Sharing dreams.
His brother.
But now—
he sees a shattered family.
A broken home.
A father on his knees.
A mother who has lost her breath.
A little sister confused, crying.
He doesn't cry.
He can't.
Because now—
he must carry them all.
Because someone has to.
The brother stands still for a long moment.
The sobs around him echo in slow motion.
The weight of the room presses down on his chest.
But he doesn't move… not yet.
Then,
he takes a step forward.
And another.
Each step feels like walking through water.
Heavy. Silent. Surreal.
He reaches the hospital bed.
His eyes don't want to look,
but they do.
And he sees his brother—
still, pale, gone.
His breath catches in his throat.
But then—
his eyes drift to the side table.
And there it is.
A folded piece of paper.
Nothing dramatic.
No label.
Just plain white.
But somehow…
he knows.
He knows his brother.
He knows his heart.
He knows what this is.
It's for them.
Maybe for him.
His hand reaches out, slowly, reverently.
He picks up the paper.
His fingers tremble.
But he doesn't open it.
Not now.
Not here.
Instead, he folds it gently again,
holds it to his chest for a second,
then places it into his pocket.
Safe.
He takes a deep breath—
the first full one he's managed since entering the room.
His brother may be gone.
But his shadow still lingers.
---------------------
As the news of his death spread, relatives and neighbors gathered at the family home.
Everyone waited in silence for the boy—whose future was stolen by this cruel world.
---
When the ambulance finally arrived, a heavy stillness followed.
As the door opened, time seemed to stop.
Faces turned pale with grief, eyes filled with sorrow.
The young man's body was brought out—carried gently by his brother and a few relatives who had rushed to the hospital upon hearing the devastating news.
Moments later, his father, mother, and sister arrived by car.
As they stepped out, their expressions said everything—like life had been ripped from their souls.
The women quickly surrounded the mother, embracing her tightly, their cries echoing through the air.
The men gathered near the father, offering their silent support and tears.
The brother and other relatives began preparing for the funeral.
Time passed slowly. The cries softened, but the pain remained deep.
Then came the hardest moment of all...
It was time to say goodbye.
The family gathered one last time around the boy, their beloved son, brother, friend.
Eyes full of tears, hands trembling, hearts shattered—
They looked at him, one final time.
...........
Somewhere in the vast universe, beyond the reach of known stars,
there exists a planet unlike any other.
It orbits not one, but two suns—
two massive spheres of fire, eternally dancing around each other,
locked in a cosmic embrace.
Their light bathes the planet in twin shadows and golden hues,
painting the sky in colors unseen by any human eye.
Around this planet, six moons slowly drift—
each with its own path, its own rhythm,
like ancient guardians silently watching from above.
Sometimes, all six moons align in a perfect arc across the sky—
and when they do, something strange stirs on the surface.
The air hums.
The oceans still grow.
*************
In a small village on that distant planet,
nestled between glowing trees and soft, bluish grass,
stood a house—not too big, not too small.
Just enough to hold a family and their quiet hopes.
Inside one of its modest rooms, dimly lit by the soft shimmer of the twin suns,
a five-year-old boy slowly stirred from his sleep.
He didn't wake up with excitement or energy.
He lay still, eyes barely open,
and from the corner of one eye…
a single tear slipped down his cheek.
No nightmare.
No sound.
Just a strange heaviness in his tiny chest,
as if he missed something—someone—he never truly knew.
He sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes,
and looked out the round glass window
The boy sat still on his bed, his small hands resting on the blanket.
His eyes remained fixed on the twin suns outside,
but his mind was somewhere else—
somewhere far, far away.
A strange feeling wrapped around him—
not fear, not sadness, but something deeper.
Familiarity.
Like this dream…
this tear…
this ache in his chest…
He had lived it before.
He placed a hand over his heart,
his fingers twitching slightly as if remembering how to hold a photo frame.
A flash passed through his mind—too quick to hold on to.
But it was there.
A hospital room.
A folded letter.
The boy blinked, confused.
He had never seen such things in this life.
Not in this world.
Not in this village.
And yet, his soul stirred like it was waking up from a long, deep sleep.
"Why do I remember… something that never happened?"
he whispered softly.
Just then, his mother walked in, her smile gentle.
"You're awake early, little one."
He looked at her, blinking the last tear away,
then slowly asked,
"Mama... have I ever... been somewhere else? Before I was your child?"
She paused, surprised by the question.
Then knelt beside him and stroked his hair.
"What makes you ask that?"
He looked back at the twins suns
"Because my heart remembers things... my mind doesn't."