The engine hummed as Jimi drove the sleek military vehicle down the winding road that led back to the villa. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the landscape, but inside the car, silence weighed heavier than dusk.
Didi sat in the passenger seat, eyes occasionally drifting toward Jimi. He hadn't said a word since they left the barracks.
His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. His jaw was clenched. And his eyes—once steady—looked like they carried the weight of a crumbling world.
They reached a sharp bend in the road. Jimi, distracted and distant, turned late.
The car jerked, one wheel sliding into a patch of loose gravel. Didi gasped as the vehicle veered, but Jimi corrected it just in time and brought it back under control.
"Sorry," he muttered, not meeting her gaze. "I—wasn't focused."
"I can tell," Didi replied gently. "You're not alright."
He stayed quiet.
Didi let the silence stretch for a moment, then asked, "Do you know that Forun prisoner? The one they had chained?"
Jimi blinked. "No."
Didi stared at him. "You sure?"
"I just…" he tried again, eyes fixed on the road. "I just feel pity. Forun or not—no one should be left like that."
"Stop the car," Didi said suddenly.
Jimi glanced at her. "What?"
"I said stop the car."
He hesitated, then slowly pulled over to the roadside and killed the engine.
The hum died. The air turned still.
Didi turned in her seat to face him fully. "You know him," she said softly. "You didn't just feel pity. You know him."
Jimi looked straight ahead, lips trembling. He didn't speak.
Tears began to gather at the edge of his eyes, and before he could stop them, they fell—silently, bitterly.
Didi reached across the console and gently held his hand.
"It's okay," she said. "You can tell me."
Jimi turned to her, voice cracking. "His name… his name is Zeke. He's my brother."
Didi's lips parted, but she didn't speak.
"I thought he was dead," Jimi continued. "Since the first wave of fighting. No word. No sign. And now… now he's barely breathing in chains like an animal. And I… I couldn't do anything."
He leaned back in his seat, overwhelmed, his voice hollow. "I didn't even say his name. I just lied and walked away."
Didi squeezed his hand tighter.
"I'm so sorry, Jimi," she said, voice filled with emotion. "You didn't deserve that. Neither of you did."
He looked at her, broken and grateful.
"I'll try to find out more," she added. "About Zeke. About what they plan to do with him. I promise."
Jimi exhaled slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."
Didi smiled faintly, then leaned forward and kissed him softly on the cheek.
"You're welcome," she said.
Jimi turned to her, stunned—not by the kiss, but by the warmth behind it.
And for the first time in days, the burden on his chest eased—if only just a little.