CHAPTER 95: Is He Still There?

TYSHA

"Tysha, it's afternoon already. Aren't you going to eat?" My father's voice pierced through the silence of my room, his concern evident in the gentle repetition of his question.

With my head buried under my pillow, I mumbled a response. "I'll eat when I'm hungry, Papa," I replied, my voice muffled by the fabric.

But the truth was, I didn't feel hungry at all. The events of the past few days had left me feeling empty, as if even my body was grieving alongside my shattered heart.

My parents continued to check on me, their worry evident in the air. While I appreciated their concern, I couldn't find it in me to show them just how much I was hurting. The weight of my pain felt too heavy to share, even with those closest to me.

After a few hours, it was my mother who entered my room and checked on me.

“You need to eat,” she stated firmly, her concern etched into every word.

I remained silent, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. I was tired of repeating the sa