PART 4- A Comfort He Never Expected

He just sat there.

Not moving.

Not reacting.

Just… existing.

In a place where he didn’t belong.

In a moment that felt unreal.

In a world that had already decided who he was.

In front of him—

people celebrated his father’s death.

Bands wrapped tightly around their arms—

“FREEDOM” written in bold red.

The word burned into his eyes.

Freedom.

They called this… freedom?

Laughter echoed through the air.

Cheers followed.

Claps.

Smiles.

Like something evil had finally been erased.

Like the world had been saved.

Like a monster had fallen.

Like his father—

was nothing more than a villain in their story.

Ronnie’s gaze didn’t move.

He watched.

Silently.

As if watching a scene that didn’t belong to him.

But every sound—

every word—

every laugh—

cut deeper than anything.

People started noticing him.

It always happened.

First—

the whispers.

Soft. Sharp. Spreading like poison.

“Isn’t that…?”

“Yeah… that’s him.”

“The villain’s son.”

Then—

the looks.

Some filled with disgust.

Some with pity.

Some with pure hatred.

A few didn’t even try to hide it.

One man scoffed loudly as he passed.

A group of teenagers laughed, nudging each other.

And then—

something hit his shoulder.

A plastic bottle.

Ronnie didn’t flinch.

Another one landed near his feet.

Still—

no reaction.

No anger.

No words.

Nothing.

Like if he stayed still enough—

if he stayed quiet enough—

maybe…

just maybe…

the world would forget he existed.

Then suddenly—

“Hero! Hero!”

“The next hero!”

The noise rose again.

Louder.

Brighter.

Alive.

Ronnie slowly lifted his head.

His eyes followed the direction of the crowd.

And then—

he saw him.

A tall figure walking in.

Calm.

Composed.

Surrounded by people.

Admired.

Respected.

Welcomed.

The complete opposite of him.

The hero’s son.

For a second—

just a second—

Ronnie felt something he didn’t want to admit.

Envy.

Good for him…

He thought bitterly.

He doesn’t have to stand here like this.

He doesn’t have to be looked at like he’s something dirty.

His chest tightened painfully.

His fingers curled slightly.

His heart screamed a thousand things—

questions…

anger…

pain…

But his lips—

remained sealed.

Because no matter what he said—

it wouldn’t change anything.

Not their minds.

Not their hatred.

Not his reality.

Time passed.

Slowly.

Painfully.

The sky shifted.

Bright to dim.

Noise to silence.

One by one—

people left.

Their laughter fading.

Their presence disappearing.

Until finally—

there was nothing left.

No cheers.

No whispers.

No hatred.

Just silence.

Heavy.

Lonely.

Endless.

Ronnie stood up.

His legs felt stiff.

But he moved anyway.

Step by step.

Toward the grave.

Toward the only thing that still connected him—

to the man everyone hated.

He stopped in front of it.

And for a moment—

he just stared.

At the dirt.

At the broken glass scattered around.

At the dust covering the name.

At the disrespect.

His jaw tightened.

Then slowly—

he bent down.

And started cleaning it.

Piece by piece.

Carefully.

Quietly.

Broken glass.

Dust.

Dried stains.

Each piece he removed felt like removing a part of the world’s hatred.

Like trying to fix something—

that was already too broken.

Then—

a sound.

Behind him.

Soft.

But clear.

Ronnie’s body stiffened instantly.

His hand froze mid-air.

“Who’s there?”

His voice was low.

Guarded.

Footsteps followed.

Slow.

Careful.

Not threatening—

but not familiar either.

Ronnie turned.

And his eyes widened slightly.

The same guy.

The hero’s son.

Standing there.

Closer now.

Real.

“Hey…” he said softly, raising his hands slightly.

“Don’t be scared.”

A small pause.

“I just want to help.”

Ronnie let out a dry, humorless scoff.

“You?”

His eyes flicked to the band still wrapped around the guy’s arm.

“Help me?”

His gaze hardened.

“The hero’s son helping me?”

“That band on your arm says enough.”

His voice dropped.

Colder now.

“…Stay away.”

For a moment—

the guy didn’t move.

Didn’t argue.

Didn’t defend himself.

Then—

quietly—

he reached for the band.

Pulled it off.

And threw it aside.

“I said…” he stepped closer slowly,

“…let me help.”

A brief pause.

“…please.”

Something about that—

made Ronnie freeze.

No arrogance.

No pride.

No superiority.

Just…

sincerity.

“You…”

Before Ronnie could say anything—

the guy bent down.

Picking up broken glass with his bare hands.

Ignoring the sharp edges.

Ignoring the risk.

“My friends made me wear it,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t mean it.”

His voice was calm.

Honest.

A small silence followed.

Then—

“I’m sorry… for your loss.”

And just like that—

something inside Ronnie cracked.

Not outside.

Not visible.

But deep inside.

Something he had been holding back—

since the moment he heard the news.

Tears slipped down his face.

Silent.

Warm.

Unstoppable.

He didn’t even try to stop them.

After everything…

After all the hatred…

After all the loneliness…

For the first time—

it didn’t feel like the whole world was against him.

Maybe…

not everyone was cruel.

Not everyone was the same.

Slowly—

he nodded.

They cleaned the grave together.

In silence.

But not the heavy kind.

Not the suffocating kind.

This silence—

felt different.

Lighter.

Safer.

Time passed without them noticing.

And when they were done—

they just stood there.

Side by side.

Looking at the now-clean grave.

A small, unsure smile formed.

A quiet understanding.

“…Name?” Ronnie asked.

“William.”

A pause.

“Yours?”

“…Ronnie.”

A faint smirk touched Ronnie’s lips.

“So… hero’s son?”

William sighed softly.

“Yeah.”

“Then why help me?”

A simple question.

But it carried weight.

William shrugged lightly.

“I don’t care what people think.”

A small smile appeared on his face.

“I just do what feels right.”

Ronnie looked at him.

Studied his expression.

Tried to find something fake.

Something forced.

But—

there was nothing.

And for some reason—

that felt real.

Ronnie turned toward the grave.

His expression softened slightly.

“Hey… dad…”

William awkwardly raised his hand.

“Uh… hi…”

Ronnie let out a small breath.

Almost like a weak laugh.

“Meet him…”

“The hero’s son.”

“Don’t call me that,” William muttered quickly.

“William is fine.”

Ronnie nodded slightly.

“…Still suits you.”

A moment passed.

Quiet.

Peaceful.

Then—

they turned.

And walked away.

Different directions.

Different lives.

But somehow—

connected.

Ronnie’s chest still hurt.

The pain didn’t disappear.

It didn’t get easier.

It didn’t fade.

But now—

it wasn’t empty.

Because for the first time…

in a world that hated him—

He wasn’t completely alone.

Authors pov :

Omg 🤧

Even writing this hurt me…

Tell me honestly—

What would you do if you were in Ronnie’s place?

If the whole world hated your father?

I really want to know your thoughts 💬

And yeah—

I’ve fixed a schedule now 👀

🕗 New chapters every day at 8 PM

So don’t forget to come back and support ❤️

Your support means everything to me

Until then—

Take care, keep smiling 😊

Your lovely author signing off 🫡

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