That evening…
the sky was quiet.
Too quiet.
No white lines.
No explosions.
Just a heavy silence
that felt wrong.
Jory sat near the entrance of the tent.
Waiting.
She didn't know for what.
But her eyes kept searching.
For him.
For Baba.
Time passed.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Every shadow made her heart jump.
Every sound made her turn.
But it was never him.
Her mother sat inside,
holding her little sister close.
Not speaking.
Not moving much.
As if even breathing
was too heavy.
"Baba will come back, right?" Jory asked.
Her voice was small.
Fragile.
Her mother didn't answer.
She just pulled her sister closer.
Jory understood.
Something inside her…
shifted.
Not broke.
Not yet.
But moved.
Like the ground
before it cracks.
Night fell.
Colder than before.
Darker than before.
And still…
he didn't come.
Jory lay down,
but sleep didn't find her.
She stared at the ceiling of the tent.
At the thin fabric
that separated them from the sky.
The same sky.
The one she used to draw.
The one she believed in.
Now it felt…
different.
Far away.
Silent.
Empty.
She turned to her side.
Her father's place…
was still there.
Untouched.
Waiting.
Just like her.
Jory reached out her hand slowly.
As if she could still feel him there.
Warm.
Safe.
But there was nothing.
Only cold space.
Only emptiness.
Her fingers closed on nothing.
And for the first time…
Jory didn't try to be strong.
A single tear slipped down.
Quiet.
Slow.
Like everything else.
That night…
no one said it out loud.
But everyone felt it.
Something was missing.
And it wasn't coming back.