Scattered Dreams, Billionaire Promises.

er the day eve

at came after. The silence that wrapped around us like a second death. It wasn't just that my father was gone. It

ars old when my life fell apart. And th

-

The kind that hangs in the corners of a house long after the tears have dried. The

neral, every

arms, words that felt rehearsed. "He was such a good man." "You're in our prayers." "Call if you need anyt

eeves too long and the tie crooked. His cheeks were wet, but he didn't make a sound. Neither

two wild puffs, and her eyes full of confusion. I hated how innocent she looked. I hated that she'd never remember him the way I

the silence that fol

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, the way Dad used to like it. She smiled for our sake and told us things would be okay. But I saw her at night, si

r that. It was the kind of cry that sounded like breathing. Quiet. Measure

always l

hen the house staff began disappearing. First the gardener. Then the driver. Then Elena, who used to braid my hair and

them on her desk, red stamps and angry la

e

uch

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had... fear. I could feel it clinging to the edges of our days. I started sleeping with the lig

st sat in them alone, staring at the walls. Sometimes he'd draw pictures of Dad. Stick figures with big smiles and the wo

hat stuck with me. Maybe because it was the first time I realized things were really different. There used to

cially. But it was coming. Li

-

time someone at schoo

too tight, and the sole was peeling. My uniform blouse had a tear in the slee

girls-girls I used to call

The poor lit

ght

ut something cracked inside me that day. A little piece of t

y know where to poke, where it hurts the most. Some days, I came home with scratch

had enough to

-

selling thin

r zipping up a black velvet pouch and pressing it to her chest before she left the house.

out boxes to the front gate, where strangers came to pick up pieces of our life. On

idn't. I just stared at him

-

She was begging. Not just asking, but begging. Her voice cracked, an

n their box. She started drinking tea instead of coffee because it was cheaper. Sh

s ei

ht have to move. That we'd have to make sacrifices. But what

I

-

our skin. You start to notice the cracks in other people, too. The way Liam flinched wh

kids, in a way. W

even when my voice shook. I learned to make oatmeal, just like Mom. I packed my own school lunch wi

eren't. I told Liam bedtime lies like, "Everything's going

ped expecting help

at us in boutiques-turned its back. No more free desserts at our favorite café. No mo

me a family

-

I remember clearly from t

what it was then, but now I understand. It was survival. It was de

not be the

. For Mom. And for the girl I used to be-the girl with

rget her completely

-

surrounded by books no one touched anymore. I opened a sketchpad

slowly, the image took shape-a tree, cracked and leaning, but still rooted deep

girl

n't broken beyond rep

-

w I lost everything and

thing I never ima

ed to swallow m

is Kira

s only the