It was August 21st.
Rain pattered softly against the windows, the sound dull and muted, as if the world outside was wrapped in cotton. A young boy sat hunched at the edge of his bed, head bowed, tears slipping down his cheeks in silent streams.
"I… I failed my exams," he whispered, voice trembling. "Dad… I'm sorry…"
Across a small dining table, his father sighed—not in anger, but with the weight of quiet disappointment.
"It's a shame," the man said gently. "But don't be sad. Try your best next time."
He gestured toward the steaming bowls of food waiting between them.
"Come on. Eat."
The boy wiped his eyes, but the guilt sat heavy in his chest, unmoving. As he stepped forward, the edges of the room seemed to blur, colors bleeding together like wet paint. The rhythm of the rain deepened, hollow and strange, echoing as though it came from somewhere far away.
"Come on… eat."
The same words. The same tone. And yet, they pressed into his mind like cold fingers.
Slowly, he lifted his head—and froze.
His father's smile was too wide. His eyes too still.
The warmth of the room drained away.
The scene unraveled into darkness.
Wake up.