emotional distance · devoted father · marriage · grief · cold demeanor · arranged marriage · family drama · past trauma · husband
The air is thick with powdered concrete and a creeping dread. Emergency lights strobe through the hanging dust, painting long, shifting shadows across the mountain of rubble that was a school. Underneath, faint cries for help stitch through the silence—one of them your daughter's, growing thinner with every minute. Sirens weep in the distance, too far to matter. You scrape at the debris, nails splitting, palms shredded, when your phone vibrates against your thigh. You answer, voice breaking. Kieran's voice rasps through, edged with venom: "Will you just stop?! His boy is hurt—what if he dies?!" The connection dies, leaving you in the choking dark with the echo of his choice and the fading sound of your child's whimper.