The night slipped away quietly.

  And when morning came, the faint glow of dawn spilled through the cracked window.

  The soft clatter of dishes came from the small kitchen.

  Dad was humming—off tune, as always—while setting the plates on the table.

  I sat down slowly, still feeling the weight of last night's words.

  For a moment, I just watched him move—his tired shoulders, his calloused hands...

  Then I spoke, voice small.

  "Dad—"He turned to me.

  "I'm sorry."

  My head lowered, the words barely more than a whisper.

  Yeah... I shouldn't have acted that way.

  He's already struggling so much to make my life better somehow.

  And I just—made it harder.

  He smiled softly, the kind of smile that always felt like a warm blanket on a cold morning.

  "It's not a big deal. It's okay, Afraan," he said gently. "Don't worry. Dad's fine."

  Yeah...That's the kind of person my dad is.

  He never gets angry, no matter what I do.

  He took a sip of tea, then looked at me with a grin.

  "I'll give you a ride to the college today, okay?"

  He chuckled lightly. "You should make use of your dad's driver job from time to time, you know."

  I smiled faintly for the first time in days.

  "Yeah... Dad. I'll go with you."

  Outside, the city was waking up—the distant honks of rickshaws,

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  the faint barking of a street dog,

  the sizzle of breakfast frying in someone's kitchen.

  And for that one quiet morning...everything felt okay again.

  ***

  The morning sun had just started to warm the streets when I stepped outside.

  Dad was already waiting by the truck—an old dented delivery truck, paint faded from years of sun and dust.

  He waved at me with that same bright grin. "Come on, champ! Hop in!"

  Yeah… Dad worked as a delivery driver for a company downtown.

  It wasn't much, but to him—it was everything.

  I climbed into the passenger seat, the leather cracked and warm from the sun.

  Dad sat on the driver's side, adjusting the mirror with a little hum.

  "So—" he said, voice full of cheer, "are you excited to go on a long drive with your super cool dad?"

  "Yep," I said, matching his tone as best as I could.

  He grinned wider. "Shall we start then?"

  "Yep."

  "Okay then—let's go!"

  The truck roared to life—VRRRMMM!—rattling like it might fall apart any second.

  But to us, it was the sound of freedom.

  The gears clanked, the tires crunched over the dirt, and the engine's hum echoed through the quiet morning streets of Cumilla as we drove off together.

  ***

  The truck rolled smoothly down the highway, the morning breeze brushing through the half-open window.

  Dad was humming along to an old song on the radio—the static crackling between verses,

  the low thrum of the engine blending with the tune.

  For a while, it felt peaceful.

  Just me, Dad, and the open road.

  Then—something caught my eye.

  On the right side—a flash of metal.

  I turned my head.

  And there it was—a massive truck,

  barreling toward us at full speed.

  "Dad—!" I shouted, my voice trembling.

  He turned, startled. "Wha—"

  BOOOOOOM!

  A deafening crash—metal tearing against metal—glass shattering—the world spinning—

  and then—

  everything went dark.

  ***

  A faint ringing filled my ears—a high, sharp tone that wouldn't fade.

  When I slowly opened my eyes, the world was spinning.

  My head throbbed, my vision blurred—shapes melting into light and shadow.

  Then, little by little, it cleared.

  I was lying in my dad's arms.

  He was holding me tightly—so tightly it almost hurt.

  "D-Dad…" I whispered.

  No answer.

  Blood covered his shirt, his face pale beneath the flickering dashboard lights.

  "Dad…?" I reached out with a trembling hand,

  my fingers shaking as I touched his cheek.

  It was cold.

  "Please... wake up," I said, my voice cracking.

  "Dad, it's not time for jokes."

  Still nothing.

  Tears welled up, blurring my sight again.

  "Please... wake up!" I pressed my head against his chest—no movement, no heartbeat.

  "Please help!" I screamed, pounding the cracked window.

  "Somebody—please! My dad isn't answering!"

  Only silence answered me.

  The faint ticking of the broken engine...the distant hiss of leaking fuel...and my own voice echoing into the empty road.

  "Please..." I cried, hitting the glass again and again.

  "Someone... help us..."

  But the only thing that answered me was silence—and my own sobs,

  echoing inside the broken truck.

  I held my dad's body tighter.

  His arms were still around me,

  even now.

  Protecting me.

  And that was the last warmth I felt

  before everything turned

  cold.

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