The rain had been falling without pause, drumming over the black umbrellas and soaking the earth beneath the rows of graves. Everyone was dressed in black—every maid standing quietly with bowed heads, some holding umbrellas over the four grieving family members.
Yuxuan cried loudly, her sobs dramatic and exaggerated—tears that looked more like a display than genuine grief.
Beside her, Zhenyu stood completely still. His face was pale, expression heavy, yet not a single tear touched his eyes.
Eleven-year-old Jiarui, however, could not hold back his emotions. His eyes were swollen red, tears escaping again and again.
Little nine-year-old Yan Xiaan stood close to him, wiping his face with trembling hands as tears rolled down his cheeks.
One by one, the people left.
But Jiarui remained.
He stood before his grandfather's grave, his small body shaking as he cried with all the pain inside him.
"Grandpa… why did you leave me?" he sobbed. "How will I live without you? Except for you and Aanya… no one loves me. Papa doesn't love me either. He just leaves me alone…"
His voice cracked. The raindrops mixed with his tears.
When he finally turned away from the grave, he slowly walked toward Aanya's house.
But what he saw stopped him.
Aanya Lu and her brother Jiyan were laughing in their garden—Jiyan feeding her small bites of food, Aanya smiling softly.
But her eyes were swollen. Her nose was red. She looked like she had cried too.
Jiarui's umbrella slipped from his hands and fell to the ground.
A memory struck him—sharp, painful, and violent.
That eighteen-year-old boy.
The one who killed his mother and little sister.
The one who destroyed his family.
His heart tightened.
That boy… was Aanya's brother.
His ears rang with the screams from that terrible day. His mother's last cry. His sister's frightened voice.
Jian's face blurred into that memory.
Every happy moment Aanya and he had shared flashed painfully.
His head throbbed.
"My parents' killer… was my best friend's brother," he whispered, voice trembling.
"I wanted to ruin his sister's life… but his sister… is my first love."
His breath broke.
Aanya suddenly looked his way. Her eyes widened.
She whispered to her brother, "Bade bhai… I'll be back."
Jiyan nodded. "Alright. Go."
Aanya ran toward Jiarui, concern written all over her face.
"Did you come to meet me?" she asked softly. "I know… Grandpa is gone… I feel sad for you
She stepped closer in her warm, gentle voice.
But Jiarui stepped back and pushed her away.
"Stay away from me," he shouted. "You ugly girl! I hate you!"
Aanya stumbled and fell. Her ankle scraped against a stone, and blood began to flow.
She winced, trying to stand.
Jiarui saw the blood. His heart twisted painfully.
For a second, he wanted to help her.
But anger and grief held him tightly.
Aanya whispered, voice shaking,
"What happened to you? Why are you talking like this? Aren't we… friends?"
Jiarui's voice broke with rage.
"Do I look like a fool to you? Do you think I'll be friends with the sister of my mother and sister's killer?"
His hands trembled.
"I lost everything because of your family. EVERYTHING!"
He stepped back again.
"This friendship ends today. Don't ever come near me."
Aanya's tears fell instantly.
She pushed him weakly in anger.
But her push barely moved him, and yet the pain on his face deepened.
"You're the worst," she cried. "How can you talk to me like this? Don't ever show me your face again… busterd
Jiarui choked.
"And you… don't show me your face either," he said, voice cracking. "Ever."
He turned away.
At that moment, Jiyan appeared and saw Aanya crying.
"What happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, rushing to her.
He noticed her bleeding ankle.
His eyes darkened as he looked at Jiarui's retreating figure.
"That boy… it's him…" Jiyan muttered, recognizing him.
Before he could say more, Aanya hugged him and cried.
"Bade bhai… he pushed me. He broke our friendship."
Jiyan said nothing and took her inside, comforting her gently.
Jiarui walked away, but every step felt heavier.
His grandfather's last words echoed in his mind:
"Never punish an innocent for someone else's mistake."
His heart tightened.
Aanya was innocent.
She had nothing to do with that tragedy.
He was about to turn back and run to her—
—but a hand fell on his shoulder.
His father.
"There is no point," his father said coldly. "What you did was right. You're my son. You must control your feelings. Fight them."
Tears streamed down Jiarui's cheeks.
Zhenyu wiped his tears and hugged him.
"You shouldn't stay here anymore. You will go abroad," he said.
The next morning, Jiarui held his bag and walked to the basement—the place where he and Aanya had spent two years together.
Memories flooded him.
His grandfather's smile.
Aanya's laughter.
Every small promise.
Every small moment.
"Chhote Malik?" a voice called.
He turned quickly.
"Aanya…?"
But it wasn't Aanya.
It was just a maid.
"It's time for you to leave," she said gently.
She left quietly.
Jiarui repeated his father's words in his mind:
"Never call someone your own so quickly. People break hearts and trust easily."
He sighed deeply.
"Goodbye," he whispered to the memories.
"Live well, Aanya."
He climbed the stairs and walked out.
His face had no expression anymore.
Only tears remained.
Yan Xiaan saw him and rushed forward, hugging him tightly.
"Brother… I didn't get enough time with you," he cried. "I was at Grandfather and Maternal grandmother house… you just came back and now you're leaving…"
Jiarui wiped his little brother's tears.
"I'll come back, my little brother. Don't cry."
He glanced around, searching for Aanya.
She wasn't there.
His heart dropped.
Zhenyu stood beside the car.
"You are beginning a new life today. From now on, your name is Zain Yan—the heir of the Yan family."
"But… Jiarui—?" the boy whispered.
"This name," Zhenyu said firmly, "is now your identity."
With one last look at his home, Jiarui—now Zain Yan—stepped into the car.
He carried with him only his phone filled with pictures of Aanya and his grandfather.
The car drove away.
Yuxuan smiled with satisfaction, as if her biggest problem had finally disappeared.
Behind a wall, Aanya watched him leave.
Her ankle was bandaged, tears streaming silently.
She sank to the ground, sobbing.
And Zain…
looked out the window one last time, wishing he could see her.
But fate had already separated them.