Chapter 18: Where Even Tears Wouldn’t Fall

By nightfall, my legs had long since given up.

I sat motionless on the cold stone steps of an abandoned shop, my back pressed against the cracked wall, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees.

The marketplace was empty now, the cheerful noises and vibrant colors of the day swallowed by the merciless chill of the night.

I had nothing.

Not even the strength to cry anymore.

My tears had run dry, leaving only a dull ache behind my eyes and a raw, burning in my throat.

Is this how it ends?

With nothing but cold air in my lungs and failure crushing the last breath out of me?

My hands trembled as I pressed them against my belly, my fingers tracing slow, shaky circles over the place where my child still kicked weakly, as if trying to remind me he was holding on, even when I was losing my grip.

"I'm sorry…" I whispered, my voice so faint I wasn't sure if I'd actually spoken.

"I'm so, so sorry…"

I couldn't protect my father.

I couldn't provide for my children.

I couldn't even keep myself standing.

And yet…

Somehow… I was still breathing.

The world felt distant, like I was watching it through a thick sheet of glass.

Voices echoed faintly in the distance—drunken laughter from men stumbling out of a nearby bar, the sharp bark of a stray dog, the soft rustling of wind through forgotten alleyways.

But none of it reached me.

I sat there like a forgotten statue carved from sorrow, too exhausted to fight, too numb to hope.

My fingers curled into fists against my knees, nails biting into my skin. I welcomed the sharp sting. It reminded me I was still alive.

But I didn't know why I kept holding on.

What was left for me to fight for?

A single raindrop fell, cold and sharp against my cheek.

Then another.

And another.

Within moments, the heavens opened up, a torrential downpour soaking through my thin clothes, chilling me to the bone.

I didn't move.

Let the rain wash me away. Let it drown out the sound of my failures.

Let it take me where my tears no longer could.

And then… through the pounding rain and the darkness, I heard it.

The low hum of an engine.

The smooth, unmistakable sound of a luxury car pulling up nearby.

I kept my head down, too broken to care who it was.

But the rain suddenly stopped falling over me.

A moment later, the soft, commanding voice broke through the storm.

"Miss… what are you doing out here like this?"

My heart stalled.

That voice… I remembered it.

It was the man from the market.

But I couldn't look up.

I couldn't bear to lift my head and show my broken face to anyone, especially not a man who looked like he had never known a moment of suffering in his life.

"Go away…" I croaked.

But instead of leaving, the sound of footsteps approached, slow and deliberate.

A large, warm umbrella opened above me, shielding me from the storm I had willingly sat under.

His voice was lower this time, quieter… but somehow filled with something I hadn't heard in a long, long time.

"Stand up," he said. "You don't belong here."

And for the first time in what felt like forever…

I wanted to believe he was right.