Chapter Three: The Breaking Point
There's a silent truth about loss: it never arrives alone. It doesn't knock politely or leave when asked. It bursts through the front door, takes what it wants, and leaves behind a silence that rewrites who you are. For me, it came in the middle of sophomore year. One call. Two words. Everything changed.
"Car accident."
My parents were gone.
The funeral was a blur—black suits, flowers I couldn't smell, voices I couldn't understand. Zai was there. Ene too. But nothing they said registered. I remember standing beside two caskets, wondering how the world hadn't stopped turning. I remember holding my little sister's hand. I remember the emptiness.
Grief is a shapeshifter. Some days it made me numb. Other days, it made me rage at the air. I stopped showing up for practice. I didn't eat much. Teachers gave me space. Friends gave me pity. I hated it all.
Zai was the one who didn't leave.
He texted every morning. Waited outside my house even when I didn't answer. Sat beside me in silence until I broke down and let myself cry.
"You don't have to talk," he said one evening. "I just want you to know you're not alone."
Ene visited too. She brought food, helped with chores. She hugged me once—tight and warm. "I'm here, Vee. Always."
But even their presence couldn't undo the shift inside me. I became quieter. Sharper. The jokes faded. I kept my hood up even in class. And the dojo? I pushed harder than ever.
Karate became my way of breathing.
One rainy afternoon, Zai found me training alone at the community center. My knuckles were red. My kicks, wild.
"Vee," he said, stepping into the mat space. "You need to rest."
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
I turned to him, fists clenched. "What do you want from me, Zai? Huh? To sit around and talk about my feelings while everything hurts?"
Zai didn't flinch. "No. I just want my best friend back."
The silence between us felt like a wall.
Then I whispered, "Maybe he died too."
Zai walked forward and hugged me, without a word. And I broke—tears, sobs, fists pounding against his back until I was just tired.
School moved on. The world didn't stop. People whispered less, but watched more. I could feel their eyes when I walked past—some full of sympathy, some just curious.
Ene tried to make me laugh again. Sometimes she succeeded. But we weren't the same. I wasn't the boy who blushed at her smile anymore. I was trying to survive.
But the weird thing was… I started to.
Little by little, I came back to life. The pain didn't go away, but it settled, like an echo in the background. I started eating better. Focused more in class. Helped my sister with homework.
Zai noticed first. "You're stronger than most people realize, Vee."
I nodded. "Not strong. Just stubborn."
"You know that's your superpower, right?" he joked. "Stubborn enough to outrun grief."
We laughed. It felt good.
But then came the crack.
It started small. A missed hangout. A weird excuse. Zai avoiding eye contact in the hallway. I brushed it off—maybe he was stressed, maybe he was tired. But the pattern repeated.
One day, I caught him walking out of the library with a girl I didn't recognize. They looked close—laughing, heads bent together. When I asked him about it, he said, "She's just a classmate."
I wanted to believe him. But something in his tone felt… off.
Later that week, he skipped our Saturday training. Didn't answer calls. Then, on Monday, he walked into school with a bruise on his lip.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Nothing," he replied, too quickly. "Just slipped during practice."
But I knew that wasn't true. Zai never slipped.
I let it go. But inside, doubt crept in. For the first time since the funeral, I felt alone again.
We graduated high school together, somehow still friends—though the distance had grown. We still sparred, still talked about life, but something was always missing. Honesty, maybe. Or trust.
When college results came, I nearly cried.
"Zai," I said, holding out the letter. "We got into the same university."
He blinked. "No way. For real?"
"We did it, man."
We hugged, both of us laughing like kids again. The moment felt pure. Like maybe everything would go back to normal.
Ene, however, didn't make it in. She got accepted into a different school in another state.
"I'm happy for you both," she said on call, forcing a smile. "You'll do great together."
But her voice trembled. I heard it.
College came fast. New city. New room. New air.
Zai and I shared a dorm for the first semester. It felt like old times—gaming, ramen dinners, late-night arguments over anime vs. western comics. We even joined the campus martial arts club together.
But then, something shifted again.
Girls in our department started noticing me. Maybe it was the focus in my eyes or the way I moved. I didn't ask for the attention. I didn't even want it. But it came. Notes under my door. Random compliments. Instagram DMs.
I ignored most of them. Smiled politely. Never entertained anything serious. But one day, a girl named Lila took a photo of me during training and posted it with the caption: "Department crush 😍."
Zai found it. Showed it to me with a grin. "Bro, you're a celebrity now."
"Not funny," I said, rolling my eyes.
"I'm serious. Don't forget us when you're famous."
We laughed. But that post reached Ene.
Ene's reaction came fast. A call. Her voice sharp.
"So… girls now?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I saw the picture, Vee. You looked real cozy."
"It wasn't like that."
"Maybe not to you."
She hung up before I could explain.
I stared at the screen, heart pounding. For the first time, I realized how far apart we were.
Things got worse. Zai grew distant again. Late nights out. Half-truths. And when I asked, he just smiled and said, "Just tired."
I didn't know it then, but the real storm was coming.
And I wouldn't survive it the same way twice.