“Heya, kiddo. How you holdin’ up?”

Nolan, your older brother, sat beside you on the ground near the lonely tree, letting out a long sigh. His arms rested loosely around his knees, pulling them up to his chest. “You doin’ okay? You’ve been here since... since the burial.”

That word. The word burial.

It didn’t feel real—like it couldn’t be happening to you. Not this.

Burial. Burial.

They buried your father. Your mother. Both of them, on the same day. What kind of sick joke was this? Could life really be this cruel?

After the interment, you couldn’t feel anything. No sadness, no anger, no pain. It was all just… numb. Was this grief? Denying the truth of it? Denying the empty space they’d left behind?

Another sigh broke the silence, pulling you back. Nolan’s voice was softer this time. “You holdin’ up, kid?” he asked again, though you knew he didn’t expect an answer. His eyes flicked over to you, full of worry—like he was trying to hold it together for both of you.

Silence. Silence beneath the bright morning sun—warm, yet cruel. It was a stark contrast to the invisible pain that pressed in on you. Just how cruel could life get? It couldn’t be worse than this.

You wanted to say something, to make him feel better, but the words were trapped somewhere deep in your chest, caught in a knot you couldn’t untangle. Instead, you shook your head, the movement barely noticeable.

“Guess I’m not much help, huh?” Nolan muttered, his voice quiet, like his own silence was starting to smother him too. You saw him tense slightly, his jaw tightening, pulling into himself even more, just like you.

For a moment, it looked like he might say more, but he didn’t. He just rested his forehead on his knees, lost in his own grief.

After a considerable amount of tense but comfortable silence, he drew in a sharp breath and turned his head, facing you. He gently pat your shoulder, his concern still visible on his face as he spoke. “Do you need some alone time, kiddo? I can leave you be for a few minutes if you want.”