"I told you already, didn't I? I'm looking for a new school for Sombat!"
Nipha's voice cut through the cold silence of the house like a blade—sharp, trembling with restrained fury.
"You have to cover the rest of the living costs. Stop blowing all your money on that mistress!"
"I signed the divorce papers! You have to contribute to your child's care!"
Her voice echoed off the walls, a storm of long-held bitterness unleashed into the dim, still air.
From the other end of the line, there was no response. No words. Only the weight of fatigue and frustration bouncing back at her like an accusation.
Sombat listened quietly from the small room that was now his.
His heart felt hollow…
As though he were drifting inside an invisible space, unseen, unheard.
The grown-ups' words became like walls—walls that slowly pushed him further and further away from the world outside.
Nipha collapsed onto the sofa.
She shifted slightly, as if trying to escape the exhaustion consuming her from within.
Her slender fingers rubbed at her temples, slowly, as if trying to press the pain deep beneath her skin, where it could no longer rise.
Sombat gently opened his door.
His eyes, filled with quiet concern, found her sitting motionless in the center of the room.
He stepped out cautiously.
"Are you okay, Mom?"
"I'm fine. Go to bed. I need to leave early tomorrow... Don't forget to lock the doors."
Her tone was steady, firm—uttered without meeting his eyes.
She kept her head bowed, fingertips still circling her temples as if pressing sorrow into silence.
"Yes, Mom," he whispered—barely more than breath.
He lingered a moment, watching her quietly, then retreated into his room without another word.
There were so many things he wanted to say.
So many questions.
But he knew—no one was listening.
There was no space for those words to exist.
In this house,
there were no questions,
no answers,
not even the kindness of spoken concern.
Only the silence... slowly consuming every feeling until numbness became normal.
✵ ✶
"Hoo... hooo... hoo... hooo..."
The owl's cry echoed like a forgotten chant in the still of night—
A warning from something unseen.
And then—
A soft piano melody began to drift through the silence,
Delicate… otherworldly…
As though it didn't belong to this reality at all.
Sombat jolted awake.
His eyes flew open.
He glanced at the clock above his bed—midnight, exactly.
His breathing quickened, heart racing as he tried to grasp what was real.
But the melody… it remained, ghostlike, floating through the veil of shadows.
He listened—intently.
It called to him.
As if inviting him to follow.
The sound came from just beyond the window.
Though the old glass pane was tightly shut, the music seeped through
—as if someone had allowed it in,
just so he would hear it.
…
Sombat's heartbeat grew wild and erratic.
He rose from the bed.
Step by step, he moved toward the window.
His hand trembled as it reached for the curtain—hesitant.
Then, slowly, he pulled it back…
Outside—only moonlight.
Pale and faint, filtered through tall branches.
Stillness.
Utter and complete.
He could hear nothing but his own heartbeat, pounding like a drum.
Through the tall grass and unmoving trees,
his gaze fixed upon a distant light—
flickering within a lone villa that stood deep in the shadows.
The music became slightly clearer—
and then it stopped.
Suddenly.
As though it had been cut off the moment his eyes locked on the mysterious house.
…
He stared at it, unwavering.
As if hoping—waiting—for the sound to return.
But the only reply was silence.
At last, he gave up.
He collapsed back onto the bed,
his mind spinning with unasked, unanswered questions.
He stared at the ceiling,
bathed in dim, flickering light from the bedside lamp.
Thoughts churned endlessly—
like a melody that never truly stopped playing.
…
His heavy eyelids finally closed,
and the silence returned,
deep and cold—
like something watching him from the other side of the dark.
✦
He was walking—
through waist-high grass, its sharp tips brushing against his sleeves like living blades.
The moonlight was pale and indifferent,
casting a ghostly glow upon a world suspended in stillness.
No sound.
No wind.
Not even the passage of time.
The same villa stood ahead,
shrouded in mist—
tall, looming, unreal.
And the piano returned—
its melody slower now, distorted,
like a broken lullaby from a crumbling world.
It pulled him in,
closer,
note by note.
His chest tightened.
The sound grew louder,
pressing against his breath.
When he reached the villa's front steps,
the wooden door creaked open—
a soft eeeeeek, breaking the silence.
Inside—
nothing but blackness.
Pale curtains billowed gently,
and in the center of the room—
a shadow stood, its back to him.
That shadow slowly turned—
He wanted to run, but his legs were anchored to the floor.
The face began to emerge—
But before he could see it clearly—
The roar of an engine exploded like thunder in his chest.
Sombat bolted upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat.
The bedside lamp still glowed,
casting an amber hue over his damp, anxious face.
He rushed to the window.
The curtains had been drawn open.
Outside,
the red tail lights of his mother's truck were fading into the dark.
She had left for work—
long before the first rooster crowed.
He watched until the final glimmer disappeared.
But the sound of the engine still roared in his mind—
Not just as a sound…
but a feeling.
A feeling that she had left him.
Left him all alone.
In this silent, hollow world…
A world he was no longer certain was real—
or simply something he had never truly awakened from.