That night, we were given new rooms. Me, Cassidy, Hazuki and Ms. Yan were in the same room.
The room was an upgrade from the shed last time. Four rough-hewn wooden walls, four humble pallet beds, and a flickering oil lamp casting long, dancing shadows. But compared to the various unsafe places we'd found shelter in since the world turned upside down, it felt like a safe haven, a bastion of warmth and security.
I was sharing my account of the day's events with Ms. Yan, her face a mask of worry as she listened intently. The light from the lamp danced over her lined face, etching deep grooves into her cheeks and forehead, a testament to years of resilience and hardship. Her dark eyes never left my face as I told her of the raider ambush, the subsequent capture, and the deadly brawl that ensued.
My words seemed to hang heavy in the air as I reached the part where I pushed Kaya out of harm's way and took the hit. A silence stretched between us, the only sound being the steady hum of the lamp and the soft rustle of the wind outside. Then, without warning, her small, gnarled fists pummeled my chest.
I winced as her surprisingly strong punches landed on my body, her cries of "Why do you have to do something so reckless!" echoing in the room. Each word punctuated by another jab, the physical pain nothing compared to the sorrow laced in her voice.
"Ow!" I winced again, more out of surprise than actual pain. But her onslaught didn't stop, her usually mild demeanor replaced by a torrent of worry and relief that she couldn't contain.
And then, just as suddenly, her attacks ceased. Her fists dropped to her sides, and her head buried against my shoulder. The rough fabric of my shirt was instantly soaked with her tears, her quiet sobs vibrating through me.
She wept silently, her shoulders shaking with the force of her emotions. Her fingers clung to the fabric of my shirt, the reality of the danger I'd put myself in hitting her all at once. Her body felt small and frail against mine, a stark reminder of the fear and uncertainty we all harbored, hidden beneath our brave faces.
I gently laid a hand on her back, feeling the delicate tremors wracking her body. I said nothing, knowing there was little I could say to reassure her. After all, our world was one where every step could be your last, where dangers lurked in every shadow.
So, we sat there in the quiet room, lost in our thoughts, the wind whispering through the cracks in the walls, echoing our silent prayers for safety and peace. Through shared sorrow and comforting silence, our bond strengthened that night, not just as survivors, but as a family that would face whatever lay ahead, together.
"Don't worry. I will be here for you Ms. Yan." I hugged her.
She didn't reply, instead she hugged me back tighter.
Q: How would you comfort a worrying friend or family member?