Three days later, as he had promised, Egemed went to visit Jerelr's parents. He woke early, finished his household chores, helped his mother, and set out.
When he reached Jerelr's home, everything was eerily silent. He called out for Jerelr's mother three times and knocked on the door, but there was no answer.
He waited for half an hour, thinking they might have gone somewhere, yet no one appeared. He tried again. Still silence.
He fiddled with the door handle and, to his surprise, it opened—it was not locked.
Hesitant, he stepped inside.
The house was empty. Everything had been moved. Tables, sofas, personal belongings—gone.
He froze, speechless, as his eyes roamed the empty rooms.Then he rush upstairs; Jerelr's room held almost nothing. Only a candle and a painting of a river remained.
His mind raced, unable to comprehend, as he sank to the floor, leaning against the wall, staring at Jerelr's room in disbelief.
'Why would they leave so suddenly? Just three days after Jerelr passed… disappearing without a trace.'
'Had my mother met them before they left?' He didn't know. He felt dazed and utterly alone. He asked himself the question again and again, desperate for an answer.
After a moment of confusion, he slowly stood up, clutching the candle and the painting, and left the house.
He hurried out, trembling as he asked around the neighborhood—one person after another—but no one knew where the Myers family had gone.
All anyone could say was, "They left yesterday."
Egemed's chest tightened, questions running through his mind nonstop.
'Why am I always late for everything?'
'Why does it feel like the world wants to destroy me? Like everything… everyone… hates me?'
He pulled out his phone, his hands shaking as he scrolled through his contacts, searching for Jerelr's parents' number. He tried calling them again and again, but every call brought the same response:
"The number you have dialed is not available. The number you have dialed does not exist."
In disbelief, he stood frozen—like a man who had just seen a ghost. His eyes stayed locked on Jerelr's house, unblinking, unmoving.
Inside his chest, something tore. It felt as if a blade had split his heart clean in half, leaving the rest of him hollow and trembling.
He didn't know whether to cry or laugh.
He didn't know anything anymore.
His thoughts scattered, his mind numb, his soul stunned into silence.
In despair, he kept staring at the quiet house, the only words forming inside him were: 'I never hated Jerelr's parents… not even once.'
With tears sliding down his face, he calmly whispered to the empty house—once his home too, now hollow, as if it had never existed at all.
His voice was thin with grief.
"If this is what Jerelr wants… I accept it. Mother… Father… please live well."
Then, as if the ground beneath him finally gave way, he turned and hurried down the street, desperate to find his own mother—hoping she might know something, anything, that could make sense of this unbearable disappearance.
When he returned home, he sought his mother. Finding her in the storeroom, he rushed to her.
"Mother! Did you meet Jerelr's parents?"
"They are not home," she said gently. "I waited with your father outside for an hour, but no one came."
Egemed's voice trembled. "Mother… I just came from their house, and the neighbors said they moved yesterday."
" I went inside… everything was gone. Only this candle and painting remained." He showed her the items.
"I don't know what's going on, Mother. Even their numbers… I cannot reach them."
His tears fell freely. "Mother… did I do something wrong?"
"Did I… hurt them somehow? I love Jerelr so much, but I couldn't even touch his coffin." His voice hoarse
He continued
"I didn't even know what illness he suffered. I thought I could ask them today… but now… they are gone too."
His mother looked at him, pity and heartbreak filling her eyes as she watched her son break down and cry in front of her.
"Egemed… you did nothing wrong. They may have their own reasons. Don't think too much, my son."
She pulled him into a tight embrace.
"Maybe they changed their numbers… maybe they moved because they couldn't feel at home anymore after Jerelr passed."
She smoothed his back gently.
"They'll contact you when things settle down."
Egemed forced a weak smile. "Okay… I hope so."
But tears continued to stream down his cheeks. His mother gently wiped them away and cupped his face with both hands.
She leaned closer, her voice soft and warm as she whispered,
"They will contact you soon. Don't worry… just be patient, my Egemed."
She pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, smiling gently.
"I love you."
Hearing the worry in his mother's voice, he knew that even her words could not fully comfort him—yet the simple, trembling "I love you" softened something inside his heart.
He quietly returned to his room, taking the bunch of white tulip with him.
His room was already full of tulips in water sponges, a testament to his promise: he would visit Jerelr's grave until he felt at ease.
The sun was about to set, the sky painted in soft gold as he reached Jerelr's grave, his heart still heavy with questions and disbelief.
Even so, he greeted Jerelr gently.
"Jerelr… I'm back. Good afternoon."
"I'm sorry I came late today."
He bowed his head, removed his hat, and placed the flowers carefully on the grave.
Then he sat beside it, holding the candle and the painting close to his chest.
"Jerelr…" he called softly, as if Jerelr might respond. "Yes, Brother Ege."
"This is all they left, Jerelr." He held out the river painting and the candle, open wide in his palms.
"Jerelr, why did your parents move away so suddenly?"
"Will they come back for your first death anniversary? I… I can't reach them anymore."
He sobbed quietly, his voice trembling. "Do you hate me, Jerelr? Did I do something wrong?"
"Tell me… why does everything important disappear so suddenly?"
"You just passed… it hasn't even been a week, and your parents are gone. I am sad… really, really sad. What should I do Jerelr?"
He stayed silent for a while. Slowly, he removed his coat and wrapped it around himself. Resting his chin on his knees, he stared at the flowers on Jerelr's grave.
Through tears, he smiled softly and spoke again:
"But… even if your parents don't visit you, I will."
"I will always come to talk to you, Jerelr."
"I'm sorry if I ever hurt you… could you please forgive me if I did something wrong? If all of this happened because of me… I'm sorry, Jerelr."
He wiped his tears and smiled faintly, pressing the candle to his chest.
"I didn't hate your parents, Jerelr… but I was broken."
"I didn't want to see anyone… after your burial."
"I was an idiot. It was foolish of me to return home without a word to your parents."
"They might have thought I hated them, since they didn't even let me touch your coffin… when it was you who told them not to let me in."
"I should have gone to them sooner. I've lost myself…"
He cried quietly, letting his sorrow pour out, telling Jerelr everything he felt—as if Jerelr were there listening, comforting him as he always had, wiping away his tears, and making him feel at ease no matter what he went through.
Night had fallen, draping the graveyard in shadows. Egemed stood slowly, clutching the candle and the painting as if they were the last pieces of his connection to Jerelr.
He bent forward in a deep, trembling bow, whispering into the silent night:
"I'm sorry if I ever hurt you, Jerelr… If only I had known, I would have made it right. I… I had no choice… now… I'm… sorry."
The words hung in the cold air, swallowed by the darkness. With one last glance at the grave, he turned away, feeling the weight of absence pressing down on him, carrying his grief silently into the night.
—
Every day afterward, Egemed visited Jerelr's grave. He spoke to him as if death had never separated them. He placed a white tulip each day—a silent, unspoken apology for never seeing the sickness hiding behind his friend's smile, for knowing the truth only after death took him away.