The rain hadn’t stopped for three days, and each drop seemed to solidify the silence between them.

Mara stood at the window, watching the river swell, feeling the weight of all the words she couldn’t say.

Her brother, Eli, sat behind her, sketching the outline of their old house as if that could demonstrate what they’d lost.

The pencil trembled in his hand, smudging the lines that used to hold their childhood together.

She turned, wanting to apologize, but the grief in his eyes seemed to incapacitate her completely.

Every breath became an argument she couldn’t win, every heartbeat a reminder that time was moving without mercy.

Outside, a tree cracked under the storm’s rage, falling into the river with a sound like breaking glass.

Eli looked up, finally meeting her gaze—something unspoken passing between them, fragile but real.

The rain eased, and she crossed the room, resting a hand on his shoulder.

In the quiet that followed, it was enough.