When Max opened the door, the familiar scent of home drifted toward him warm, comforting, and unmistakably his mother's cooking. Before he could even take off his shoes, her voice floated from the kitchen, soft yet lively.
Welcome home. How was university today?
Max let his backpack slip from his shoulder, the dull thud echoing against the wooden floor. It was fine, he said, running a hand through his hair. "Except for the literature class. You know it's not really my thing."
A gentle laugh came from the kitchen. You've never been a fan of literature, have you?
Max smiled faintly. Yeah, you are right. It is just not for me. What's for dinner?
I made pizza for you, his mother replied with a teasing warmth in her tone. Now go change your clothes and come to the table before it gets cold.
As Max headed toward his room, he could already smell the melted cheese and herbs filling the air.
"I'm turning on the TV," he said, his voice half-tired, half-distracted.
The screen lit up, filling the quiet room with the sound of the evening news.
> "In Palestine, more children were killed today…"
"In Nigeria, dozens have lost their lives after another attack…"
"In Ukraine, 11 buildings destroyed by misseles..."
The words sank into the room like cold air. Max didn't move for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on the screen. He felt something tighten in his chest — a mix of sadness and helplessness he didn't know how to name.
It's awful, he thought. Knowing all this is happening and not being able to do a single thing about it.
He turned the TV off. The sudden silence felt heavy.
From the kitchen, his mother's voice broke through softly. "How was the pizza?"
Max forced a small smile, even though she couldn't see it. "It was great," he said.
"Good," she replied.
He stood up, the quiet of the house returning as he picked up his phone and headed for his room. "I'm going to my room," he said gently.
In his room, Max closed the door behind him and sat down at his desk. The glow of his computer screen filled the dim space with a soft blue light. He stretched his fingers once and opened his code editor.
For the next few hours, the only sounds were the quiet tapping of keys and the hum of the computer fan. Lines of code filled the screen, one after another, until the project finally came together — neat, working, complete.
He leaned back, a small smile crossing his face. "Finally," he murmured.
Without much thought, he opened his favorite game. The familiar music and colors greeted him, pulling him into a world far away from the noise of the day.
Just as he started to play, the door creaked open. His little sister peeked inside, still wearing the jacket she'd gone out in.
"What are you playing?" she asked, stepping closer.
Max didn't look away from the screen. "Just a game," he said, clicking quickly through the menus.
She came up beside him, eyes wide as she watched the screen. "That looks fun. I want to play too!"
Max sighed, keeping his focus on the game. "Not now, okay? Don't bother me."
Her smile faded. Without saying anything else, she turned and left the room, the door closing quietly behind her.
For a moment, the silence returned — except for the faint sound of the game. Max hesitated, glancing at the door, then back at the screen. He didn't say anything. He just kept playing.
When the match ended, Max leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms with a quiet yawn. The glow of the monitor dimmed as he exited the game, leaving only the reflection of his tired face in the black screen. It had been a long day — university, news, coding, noise — and all he wanted now was to sleep.
He shut down the computer and crossed the room toward his bed. The room was dark except for the faint city light seeping through the curtains. But just as he was about to lie down, something strange happened.
A faint shimmer flickered in front of him — like light bending in the air. Then, out of nowhere, a screen appeared, floating silently before his eyes.
The letters glowed white against the darkness:
"Do you want to play?"
YES / NO