When Hina was younger the world seemed simple. Mornings smelled like her mother's cooking. Evenings, her father lifting her onto his shoulders, her laughter bouncing through their home.
Her father's smile was her sun—steady, warm, always there. He ruffled her hair and promised he'd watch over her, always. She believed him. She had to. Eleven years old, she didn't know how not to.
But one day he left for the war. And he never came back.
The news was… brief. Cold. Merciless. Killed in action. That was it. No details, no closure. Just a folded flag, silence where his voice should have been.
Her mother tried to hold herself together but… it didn't fit. Pieces didn't fit. Without him, without his income, they slipped. Rent too high, bills stacking, food… sometimes barely any. Their warm little house became someone else's.
They drifted. Apartments too small. Shelters. Nights on cold benches under the stars. Hina held her mother's hand tight, trying not to cry, trying to be strong like her father would have wanted.
Then one day everything changed.
Her mother found work anywhere she could. Waiting tables, cleaning offices, stacking shelves, folding clothes in stores. Each job blurred into the next. Each day, the same tired smile.
And then she met him.
He was different. Finer suits. Polished car. Confidence that made people obey. He offered her stability. Security. A way out.
So she said yes. She told herself he would be good for Hina. Someone who could give her the life she deserved.
At first, it seemed true. His house was big. Table always full. To outsiders, a savior.
But to Hina, it was a cage.
Behind closed doors his voice became a weapon. Anger cracked like thunder at the smallest mistake. A glass wrong. A laugh too loud. A question asked at the wrong time. Words that cut. Hands heavy.
Nights full of shouts, crashes, muffled sobs. Hina learned to stay small. Speak less. Smile never. Each day, the light inside her chest dimmed.
One night, she couldn't sleep.
Her room quiet. Air thick. Blanket pulled to her chin. Staring at the door.
It creaked open.
Her heart froze. For a moment, she thought—Dad?
The shape looked like him. Broad frame, same stance. Hope flared.
But closer… illusion broke.
Not her father.
Him.
Her stepfather.
Crushed. Chest tight. Body shaking. She stumbled back, curled up, arms tight, face buried. Sobs tearing through her. Breath ragged. Cry muffled.
The night stretched. Heavy. Unending. Only her tears made sound.
And just like that, the last pieces of her childhood shattered.