It was a bright morning outside, but Ivan's room was wrapped in complete darkness. The window was closed tightly, and the curtains were drawn so close that not even a thin ray of sunlight could pass through. Morning sounds from the street—cars, people, birds—felt distant, almost unreal. Inside the room, everything was silent, heavy, and still.
Ivan opened his eyes slowly. His body felt tired even though the day had just begun. There was no excitement, no reason to get up. He stared at the dark ceiling for a few seconds, breathing quietly. Then, with effort, he pushed himself off the bed. His steps were slow as he dragged himself toward the bathroom, his shoulders slightly bent, like the weight of everything was resting on him alone.
He stood near the shower but didn't turn it on. He skipped his morning bath every day now. The cold water scared him, especially in this cold weather. He didn't want to feel that sharp chill against his skin. Instead, he leaned over the sink and washed his face only. Cold water touched his cheeks and dripped down, but it didn't wake him up. He looked at his reflection for a moment—messy hair, dull eyes, and a face that looked empty. He quickly looked away.
Ivan got ready for school without caring much. He wore his uniform, buttoning it lazily. Over it, he pulled a black hoodie around his body, as if hiding himself from the world. The hoodie felt safe, like armor. His hair was messy, untouched by a comb. He didn't try to fix it. He didn't see the point.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Ivan, open the door," Jaya said gently.
"What now?" Ivan replied in a tired, cold voice. He opened the door only slightly.
"I need to talk about something serious," she said and stepped inside.
She looked around the room slowly. The room was messy. Books lay scattered, clothes were thrown carelessly, and dust had started collecting on the shelves. This room was never like this before. Ivan always kept everything neat. Whenever Jaya entered earlier for cleaning, the room would shine like sunlight itself. But after that tragic incident, Ivan changed. His habits changed. His behavior changed. Even his silence felt different now.
Ivan's eyes suddenly fell on her ring.
The shine of it hurt his eyes.
His expression hardened.
"I don't want to talk," he said.
"Ivan, you have to move on from your dad," Jaya said softly. "From whatever happened."
His jaw tightened.
"Mother—you got engaged without asking me," Ivan said, staring straight into her eyes. "Then why are you here now? Why did you come to me? Did you suddenly need my permission?"
There was anger in his eyes.
A burning fire that refused to die.
"Ivan, we did talk," she replied in a low voice. "And he is sitting downstairs. You have to come down, talk to him properly, and accept him as your father. I don't want more from you."
"He could never be my father!" Ivan shouted.
His voice echoed through the house. Downstairs, Marcus heard it clearly while sitting on the sofa. He looked up immediately, worry filling his face. His hands tightened slightly as he listened.
Without thinking, Jaya slapped Ivan.
The sound was sharp and loud.
For a moment, Ivan didn't move. Slowly, his hand went to the table. He picked up the paper cutter and gripped it tightly. The sharp edge pressed into his skin. Blood slowly started flowing down his palm.
He tightened his grip.
Pain spread through his hand, but he welcomed it.
With force, he cut his own palm deeper.
"DID YOU FEEL PAIN?" Ivan shouted through clenched teeth.
"Ivan, listen—" Jaya stopped speaking when she saw the blood.
Her face turned pale.
"DID YOU FEEL PAIN?" he asked again, louder.
"Ivan, stop it!" She rushed forward, trying to grab the cutter.
"DID YOU FEEL PAIN?"
Tears rolled down Ivan's cheeks. His lips trembled, but his eyes stayed fixed on her face.
"Oh my God… Ivan, please don't hurt yourself!" she cried. "Please stop!"
"Did you feel pain?" Ivan asked again, tightening his grip. Blood dripped onto the floor, one drop after another.
"I feel it, Ivan," she begged. "Please give me the cutter. Don't hurt your hands, my love."
Ivan suddenly pushed her with his free hand.
She hit the door and slid down to the floor.
At that moment, Marcus ran upstairs. Seeing Jaya on the floor, his heart raced. He rushed to her, holding her carefully and checking her first, then her stomach.
"Are you okay?" he asked urgently.
"I'm fine," she said weakly. "The baby is fine."
Relieved but angry, Marcus stood up.
"IVAN—STAY AWAY!" He grabbed Ivan's arms tightly and pulled him back.
"Ivan…" Jaya whispered, her voice full of regret.
"You never feel pain, Mother," Ivan said quietly.
He walked downstairs without looking at Marcus.
His eyes stayed on Jaya until the last moment.
It was clear.
She didn't lose her son today.
She lost him the day she lost her husband.