Ryaan's pov

I don’t know what time it was.

Maybe midnight.

Maybe a little after.

The air was heavy that night. I couldn’t sleep. I kept hearing planes far away. I thought maybe I was dreaming. Then —

BOOM.

The whole house shook.

My ears rang. Glass shattered.

Then everything went black.

I woke up under something heavy. My head hurt. Dust filled my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t hear anything except the sound of my own heart beating too fast.

I screamed for Baba.

No answer.

I screamed for Mama.

Nothing.

Then I remembered—Maryam.

She had been sleeping in the other room.

I pushed broken wood off my chest and ran, stumbling, coughing, bleeding. The hallway was gone. Just smoke and broken walls and fire licking the edges of the night.

I called her name again and again:

“Maryam! Maryam!”

Nothing.

And then—

A tiny sound. Like a kitten. A whimper.

I found her under the table where she always liked to hide during thunderstorms.

Her hair was full of ash. Her doll’s leg was broken. She looked at me like she didn’t know who I was.

I crawled in and pulled her out.

Her hand was bleeding.

She kept asking, “Where’s Mama?”

I didn’t answer. I just said, “Close your eyes.”

I carried her through what was left of our home — the roof gone, the garden crushed, the lemon tree broken in half.

We walked barefoot through the street.

There were sirens. People screaming. Some lying still.

I held Maryam tighter.

She didn’t cry. She just stared.

Maybe she was too shocked. Maybe she was waiting for someone to say it wasn’t real.

We ended up in the school shelter with other people.

Someone gave us a blanket.

Maryam fell asleep on my lap.

I didn’t.

I just sat there, looking at the hole in the ceiling,

trying to figure out how to be someone I’m not ready to be.

How do I become everything she needs...

when all I want to do is cry for my mom?