Larry sat on the bus, staring outside as the city blurred past. He didn't know why, but a sudden feeling pulled him toward his old neighborhood. Toward his mother.
He hadn't seen her in years. Maybe s
he missed him. Maybe she searched for him.
Maybe she never forgot him.
He knocked on the old rusted door. It opened slowly.
His grandmother
stood there, eyes cloudy, face wrinkled with time and grief.
"Grandma… I came to see Mom," he said softly.
She stared at him like he was a ghost, tears filling her eyes.
"Larry… my boy…" she whispered, touching his face.
"You came too late."
Larry's chest tightened. "What do you mean?"
"She's gone. Three years ago," his grandmother sobbed.
"She waited… every day thinking her son would come. But you never did."
His breath shattered.
Like the world had suddenly stopped moving.
"Gone…?" he whispered.
He stumbled into the house, covering his face with trembling hands.
"No… no… I thought— I thought I had time…"
He collapsed to his knees.
"She loved you," Grandma cried.
"She kept your room clean. She kept waiting."
Larry's fists hit the floor.
"Why… why did you leave me too?"
Tears streamed down his face. He felt like a child again—lost, helpless, empty.
He ran outside, unable to breathe, unable to think.
Standing under the grey sky, he screamed silently—like his soul had been ripped out.
Hours later, he walked alone on the quiet road.
He felt nothing.
Only regret.
Only a hollow ache that would never leave.
Later That Week…
Mark and Larry walked into the company gate.
Both changed. Both cold.
Their past had burned behind them.
Their future… darker than they knew.
Side by side yet alone in their pain,
they entered adulthood not with dreams —
but with wounds.
Wounds that might someday
destroy the world…
or save it.
Because broken hearts create
the strongest heroes…
and the most dangerous monsters.