Chapter 2 Ashes of Goodbye

The morning air was sharp with winter's chill when Gabriel woke coughing-a harsh, rattling sound that cut through the quiet apartment like a warning. Eliana sat on the edge of the worn-out couch, clutching her favorite patchwork doll, watching her father struggle to catch his breath. His skin was pale, almost translucent beneath the dim light filtering through the cracked window.

"Papa?" she whispered, voice trembling. "Are you okay?"

Gabriel forced a smile, but it didn't reach his tired eyes. "I'm fine, Eliana. Just a cold, nothing more."

But the truth was heavier, darker-something that even a child could sense. The cough grew worse each day, turning deep and painful, shaking his whole body. Medicine was expensive, and Gabriel worked less, too weak to lift the heavy tools that were once his livelihood.

Eliana tried her best to help, bringing him warm tea and blankets, her small hands shaking with worry. She didn't understand the sickness fully, only that it was stealing her father away from her.

Days turned to weeks, and the cold seeped into the walls of their apartment, mingling with despair. Gabriel's breaths came shorter, his strength fading. One evening, as the sky outside faded from purple to starless black, he took Eliana's hand in his, his grip weak but determined.

"Listen, baby," he said softly, voice rough with pain. "No matter what happens... promise me that you are going to be strong. You have to be. I'm proud of you. Always."

Tears welled in Eliana's eyes, but she nodded, afraid to say goodbye.

The night Gabriel passed was silent but for the steady drip of the leaky faucet and Eliana's quiet sobs. She held his cold hand, clutching the memories of warmth, laughter, and love. Her whole world was reduced to ashes.

The days that followed were a blur. The neighbors whispered behind closed doors, some pitying her, others cold and indifferent. The landlord grim with impatience, demanded the rent they couldn't pay and locked her out of the house.

Eliana sat on the creaky floor near the door of their empty apartment, clutching Gabriel's old leather jacket, the smell of oil and sweat still lingering. She had nowhere to go, no one but herself.

Her nights were haunted by dreams-shadows reaching for her, the echo of her father's last breath, and the cold void left behind.

Then came Mr. Benson.

He was a large man, broad-shouldered and stern-faced, but with kind eyes that softened when they met Eliana's. He had been Gabriel's friend for years-a quiet presence in the background, always watching out for them.

"You're not alone," Mr. Benson said firmly, kneeling down so their eyes met. "I'll help you, Eliana. We'll figure this out together." With that he took her home.

Hope was fragile, but it flickered.

Mr. Benson's home was a strange place-larger, cleaner, filled with things Eliana had never seen before. But it wasn't her home. The unfamiliar walls echoed with silence, and though Mr. Benson was kind, Eliana felt the weight of loss like a stone pressing against her chest.

She missed her father's soft hum while he worked, the smell of grease and metal, the way he'd brush her hair at night. The world had shifted beneath her feet, and the ground was unsteady.

One evening, while Mr. Benson and Eliana sat by the fire eating a meal he had managed to scrap together, he told her something that chilled her to the bone.

"Your mother... she remarried to a man named Kingston. She lives in a different part of town now-with money, power. She doesn't want to be found."

Eliana's breath caught.

"Why?" she whispered.

Mr. Benson shook his head. "Some people make choices that hurt the ones they leave behind. But I promise you, I won't let her forget you."

The truth stung sharper than any winter wind.

That night, Eliana lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The ashes of her past smoldered in her heart, she remembered how her mom had abandoned her, how she wished and longed for her mom's touch but couldn't find it, how her father looked when he had his last breath, but beneath them, a small flame flickered-hope, anger, a fierce determination to find her place in a world that seemed bent on breaking her.

She would survive.

Because she had no choice.