The house was silent. The kind of silence that told eight-year-old Jack Sandrof that something was wrong. The small bedroom smelled of medicine, the air heavy and still. A weak lamp spread a pale glow across the room.
On the bed lay Grandma, her body thin and tired, her breathing slow. She had always been strong for Jack, but now her hands shook even when she tried to lift them.
Jack's parents stood close, tears in their eyes. His little sister, Izzy, clung to their mother, her face buried in fear.
"Come here, Jack," Grandma said softly. Her voice was weak, but her eyes were steady.
Jack's small feet moved slowly. His chest felt heavy, his throat tight. When he reached her, she pressed something cold into his palm. A green jade ring. It glowed softly in the dim light, almost as if it were alive.
"Don't cry," she said softly, her lips shaking into a smile. "You are the bravest. Time will give you strength. Time will take you where you need to go."
Her hand slipped away. Her eyes closed forever.
Jack froze. His mother's sobs filled the room, Izzy wailed, and his father tried to hold everyone together. Jack pressed the ring tightly in his fist.
It felt warm. Alive. Like it was watching him.
That night, Jack Sandrof's life changed forever. He didn't know it yet, but the ring in his hand would become the key to his destiny.
Days passed after the funeral. Jack went back to school, but everything felt different. The halls were noisy, full of kids laughing, but Jack walked through them with heavy steps. His heart still hurt. He missed Grandma's voice, her smile, her comfort.
Then, one afternoon, three boys blocked his path in the corridor.
"Look who's here," one of them sneered. "The crybaby."
Before Jack could answer, another boy shoved him hard. He stumbled and fell to the ground. His bag slid across the floor, spilling his books.
The bullies laughed and walked away, proud of their cruelty.
Jack stayed on the ground, fists clenched, face burning with shame.
Then a soft voice cut through the laughter.
"Here," a girl said, kneeling beside him. She picked up his bag and handed it back.
Jack looked at her. For a moment, the world blurred — and in that instant, he remembered Grandma's hand giving him the ring. The same kindness, the same warmth.
"Thanks," he said softly, his voice small but sincere.
For the first time since Grandma's death, he felt a little less alone.
The days slowly turned into weeks. Jack spent more time with the girl who had helped him pick up his bag. Her name was Natasha. She was kind, always smiling, always ready to share her notes or laugh at his small jokes.
They walked together after class, studied in the library, and sometimes sat under the trees outside the school, talking about little things. To Natasha, Jack was just a good friend. But to Jack, she was becoming much more. Every time she smiled at him, his heart beat faster.
Jack never said it out loud, but in his heart, he had already fallen for her.
As the school year neared its end, his best friend Ryan noticed.
"You like her, don't you?" Ryan teased one evening.
Jack's face turned red. He nodded nervously. "Yeah... I'll tell her on the last day. I have to."
Ryan grinned, but then admitted, "I also like someone. I'll confess to my crush too. But... what if we get rejected?"
They both went quiet, the fear of rejection pressing down on them. Then Ryan came up with an idea.
"Let's make it easier. You go to my girl and tell her I love her. And I'll go to Natasha and tell her you love her. That way, we don't have to say it ourselves."
Jack hesitated, but finally agreed. "Alright. Deal."
The final day of school came. The courtyard was buzzing with noise — groups of students laughed, shouted, and posed for pictures. Some were excited, some sad, and some, like Jack and Ryan, carried nervous secrets in their hearts.
Natasha sat alone on a stone bench near the old neem tree, the leaves above her moving in the soft breeze. She looked calm, flipping through her notebook. The quiet spot made her look almost untouchable.
Ryan's crush stood with her friends near the gate, their loud laughter filling the air.
Jack walked toward Ryan's crush. His legs trembled, his palms were sweaty. He was an introvert, and the sight of the laughing girls made his chest tighten. He froze a few steps away, his throat closing. The girls looked at him curiously, but Jack's courage crumbled. Without saying a word, he turned back, shivering and ashamed.
Meanwhile, Ryan walked to Natasha. His voice shook, but he spoke:
"Natasha... Jack loves you."
Natasha's eyes widened. She hesitated, then shook her head, her face tense.
"He's my best friend. I can't choose him like that. Look at him..." Her voice lowered, almost guilty. "His body... his arms... they're too lean, only bones. He looks weak. I can't see him that way."
Ryan's heart sank, but he said nothing. He just walked back.
Jack was waiting near the steps, his eyes filled with silent hope. "So... what did she say?"
Ryan sighed. His shoulders dropped as he looked at Jack.
"She rejected you," he said softly. "She told me... you're her best friend, but she can't see you in her life like that. She said your body is too lean... your arms are just bones... you look weak."
The words stabbed Jack's heart. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. His face froze, but his eyes gave away the storm inside.
He quickly turned his head, forcing a small smile to hide his pain.
"It's fine," Jack said in a shaky voice. "I already saw her with her friends. They laughed when they heard. She rejected me right there."
But anyone who looked into Jack's eyes could see the truth. He was lying. And in his silence, his heart was breaking.
Years passed, and school became only a memory. Jack Sandrof was now eighteen, a college student, living in a new world filled with bigger dreams and heavier expectations.
But some things hadn't changed.
Jack still carried the same lean body, his arms thin, his shoulders narrow. No matter what he tried, he couldn't change it. He had joined gyms, lifted weights until his muscles burned, followed strict diets, and drank every protein shake he could afford. But nothing worked. His body stayed the same — skinny, weak-looking, as if made only of bones.
Every time he looked in the mirror, he saw the same boy he had always been. And in the back of his mind, Natasha's words from that day in school returned again and again:
"His body... his arms... they're too lean, just bones. He looks weak."
He clenched his fists, but there was no answer. Only silence.
The only thing that felt different was the green ring. He never took it off. Sometimes, when he was alone, he swore it glowed faintly, pulsing like it had a heartbeat. His grandmother's words stayed with him: "Time will give you strength. Time will take you where you need to go."
Ryan was still his closest friend. He blended easily with people, joined clubs, laughed in big groups. Jack stayed in the background — quiet, introverted, always watching but rarely speaking.
He sometimes saw Natasha in the college halls. She was brighter than ever, surrounded by friends, full of confidence. Jack avoided her eyes, but her old words were carved deep inside him.
Despite his efforts, despite his pain, Jack carried on. He studied hard, helped Ryan when he could, and spent lonely evenings looking at the stars, asking questions no one could answer.
Why was he born this way? Why was his body like a cage?
His days of silence were about to end. His world was about to collide with shadows, secrets, and blood.