Mother's footsteps echoed through the empty house as she slowly made her way from room to room, calling out her son's name with growing concern. At first, she thought he might be hiding or playing a game, but as she continued her search, a sense of unease began to creep over her.
With each passing moment, the house seemed to grow quieter and more still. The only sounds were the creaking of the floorboards under her feet and the sound of her own voice calling out for her son.
"Kai-kun?" She voiced, glancing around their frozen shelter.
But there was no response. No laughter, no footsteps, no rustling of clothes or objects.
As the mother searched through the house, calling out her son's name, her heart began to sink. It wasn't the first time he had disappeared without a trace, but this time it felt different. She had a gut feeling that he was gone for good.
She started to remember all the times she had begged him to focus on his studies and give up his obsession with football. She had tried to convince him that it was a waste of time, that he needed to think about his future and his education. But he had been stubborn, insisting that football was his passion and his calling.
As she wandered through the empty rooms, her heart began to sink. She could feel a growing sense of panic building inside her, as if something terrible had happened. Her mind raced with all the worst-case scenarios, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
As she reached the final room, her son's room, she hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open. The room was just as she had left it, but it was also eerily silent. There was no sign of her son, no trace of his presence.
As she searched through his room and saw all the posters of his favourite football players, she realized the full extent of his dream. He had given up everything - his studies, his friends, and even his family - in pursuit of this elusive dream to become a footballer.
As she sat down on his bed, tears streaming down her face, she couldn't help but feel a mix of anger and sadness. Anger at her son for being so stubborn and throwing away his future, and sadness for the loss of her son, the boy she had raised and loved.
In that moment, the mother's worst fears were confirmed. Her son was gone, and she was alone in the empty house. Tears welled up in her eyes as she slumped down onto the bed, feeling a sense of overwhelming loss and confusion.
It was as if her whole world had been turned upside down, and she had no idea where to turn next. All she could do was sit there in silence, listening to the sound of her own breathing as she struggled to come to terms with what had happened.
As the reality of her son's absence began to sink in, the mother felt a wave of grief wash over her. She stumbled to the nearest chair and collapsed into it, tears streaming down her face as she let out a mournful cry.
Her heart ached with the pain of loss, as she struggled to come to terms with the fact that her son was gone. She felt a sense of emptiness and despair, as if a part of her had been ripped away.
Her tears flowed freely, as she grieved for the lost opportunities and the shattered dreams. She wondered if she had failed as a mother, if she had somehow missed the signs that her son was struggling and needed help.
The mother's body convulsed with sobs as she cried uncontrollably, her face twisted in pain and anguish. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her eyes red and swollen from hours of weeping. Her breathing came in gasps, as if each sob were taking all the air from her lungs.
Her shoulders shook with the force of her crying, as if she were being wracked by some unseen force. She clutched at her chest, as if trying to hold the pieces of her shattered heart together.
Her voice was hoarse from all the crying, and she made guttural noises that were barely recognizable as words. She felt as if she were drowning in her own tears, as if the weight of her grief were crushing her from the inside out.
She couldn't stop the tears from flowing, even though she felt as if she had no more tears left to shed. They came in waves, each one more intense than the last. She cried until she was exhausted, until there was nothing left but a sense of numbness and emptiness.
As she cried, she thought of her son, of all the times they had laughed and played together, of all the moments they had shared. She thought of his smile, his voice, his touch, and she knew that she would never see him again.
But as she cried, she also felt a sense of love and compassion for her son. She knew how much he had struggled to find his place in the world, how much he had sacrificed in pursuit of his dream.
She mourned for the lost potential, the life that her son could have had if things had turned out differently. She wondered what he would have achieved, what kind of person he would have become.
But most of all, she grieved for the loss of her son himself. She would miss his laughter, his smile, his warmth. She would miss the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand.
As she cried, she felt a sense of release, as if the tears were helping to wash away some of the pain and the sorrow. She knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but she also knew that she would find a way to carry on, to honor her son's memory and to find a way forward, even in the midst of her grief.
As the mother struggled her way to the door. She took one last longing look in the bedroom, her son's bedroom. It was just as she left it last time, but unknowingly it changed despite how many efforts she put to make it her way. She struggled, she can't change him. She regretted not changing it earlier. How this mistake had haunted her, how this carelessness wounded her and ripped it into a thousands of cuts as he bleed in her own tears.
"I was only protecting you." She whispered before closing the door, forever locking the room in her heart and sole. For eternity and perpetuity, this room shall be untouched, spotless as she left it.
Yet as she exited, she found an object on the bedside table. An object without label, wrapped in a slim plastic packet. She picked it up, curious of its origin. Beside it was a note written in a hurried manner. The note said: "To Mother".
A tear leaked down her frail cheeks. A rare smile as he ripped the packet open to greet her eyes with... a protein bar.
She bit into the snack.
Tasteless like the air.
As the mother bitterly consume the snack, her mind drifted to her own beliefs about dreams and aspirations. Dream were intangible, that they were something to be pursued with passion and dedication, but also something that could slip away in an instant.
She had seen first hand the pain of failure, the crushing disappointment that could come from striving for something that was ultimately unattainable. Failing to achieve a dream could be a devastating blow to one's sense of self-worth, and that it was important to be realistic about one's abilities and limitations.
Chasing an elusive dream like becoming a professional footballer was a risky and dangerous pursuit. It was important to have a backup plan, to have something to fall back on if things didn't work out as expected. Failing to do so would only lead to depression and disappointment. She was only protecting him, shielding him from the inevitable disappointment.
And yet, even as she held these beliefs, she couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for her son's determination and passion. She knew how important it was to follow one's dreams, even if they seemed impossible. She understood that sometimes, the pursuit of a dream could be the very thing that gave a person purpose and meaning in life.
As she savoured the emptiness and plainness of the food, lost in thought. Perhaps her beliefs about dreams were complicated and nuanced. Perhaps the importance of being realistic and practical are invaluable, but so was the power of hope and determination. Life was full of risks and uncertainties, but sometimes, the biggest rewards came from taking those risks and chasing those elusive dreams.
"Good luck." she said in a whisper. Disbelief at her own words.