As Lukas and his family were driving home, the rain began to pour heavily.
The road turned slick and dangerous.
Minutes passed.
The night was dark, almost swallowing the road whole. The only sound was the restless rain hitting the windshield.
His mom glanced at the side mirror.
"Why is that light getting bigger?" she asked, her voice trembling.
His dad's voice suddenly broke the silence.
"Everyone, duck!"
Everything happened too fast.
A deafening crash.
Metal against metal.
Then silence.
"Mom? Dad? Sis?" Lukas called out weakly.
He turned and saw his parents slumped in their seats, unmoving.
"MOM! DAD! WAKE UP!" he cried, shaking them desperately.
"Sis! Help me wake them up!" he shouted.
No response.
"Sis…?"
He slowly turned his head.
She wasn't answering.
His chest tightened. His vision blurred.
And before the world could fully sink in, darkness swallowed him too.
When Lukas opened his eyes again, the smell of medicine filled the air.
His head throbbed.
He looked around and saw his parents nearby, covered in bandages but alive.
"Oh… hey, Mom, Dad. How are you?" he asked softly, forcing a small smile.
They smiled back — but their eyes were heavy.
"Where's Sis?"
Their smiles faded.
The silence that followed was louder than any crash.
"Where's Sis?" he asked again, his voice shaking.
"We'll tell you when we get home," his father said gently. "You need to rest."
When they arrived home, Lukas immediately noticed something strange.
There were too many people.
"Why are there so many people here?" he asked.
No one answered.
As they walked inside, he saw everyone dressed in black and white. The air felt suffocating.
Then he saw it.
At the center of the room.
A coffin.
And inside—
"SISTER!" Lukas screamed, running toward her.
"I was looking for you at the hospital… haha… why are you resting here?" he said, forcing a shaky laugh. "You should be resting at the hospital…"
No response.
The silence didn't move.
It didn't breathe.
It didn't answer him.
Lukas's smile slowly trembled and fell apart.
His chest tightened as if something invisible was crushing it.
"You have to wake up… you're not fully recovered yet, right?" he cried, his voice breaking into pieces. "We need to go back to the hospital!"
And that was when the truth finally reached him —
not through words,
but through silence.
His knees gave out.
Tears blurred everything.
"You said we'd swim together…" he whispered.
"You said we'd build more sandcastles…"
He turned to the crowd.
"Why are you just standing there?! Help me! Please! Help me carry her!"
No one moved.
He looked at his parents.
They couldn't meet his eyes.
His mother walked toward him, tears falling silently.
"Lukas… please…"
But he shook his head violently.
"She hugged me when the truck was about to hit us! She protected me!"
he cried.
"Please… please… let her recover. I need to thank her. I haven't even thanked her…"
His voice grew quieter.
"I need to thank her… in person…"
His parents held him as he struggled, his cries echoing through the house.
After that day, Lukas was never the same.
He often replayed the moment in his mind — the way his sister wrapped her arms around him without hesitation.
She didn't think.
She didn't hesitate.
She chose him.
And now he lived with the weight of that choice —
with gratitude,
with guilt,
with a love that would always ache.