The fable eventually came to an end. Rian had drifted off to sleep briefly in Wildan's lap before slipping quietly back to his room with light, soundless steps.

Who knows how much time had passed. When Wildan glanced toward the living room, the darkness had grown pitch-black once more. The air inside the house felt increasingly dense and stuffy. Strangely, the tightness in his chest now seemed masked by a persistent fatigue and the bizarre atmosphere that continued to cloak the entire home.

"Wildan, Rian, Dad... let's eat dinner. It's ready," his mother's voice called out from the kitchen.

Wildan pushed himself up from his casual resting spot on the mattress. His stomach didn't feel particularly hungry after that afternoon soup, but his mother's call tonight sounded so peaceful, devoid of the shrill, stressed edge that usually dominated the household.

As Wildan stepped into the kitchen, a sight made him freeze in the doorway.

The usually cluttered wooden dining table was spotless. Several dishes of side dishes were neatly arranged across its surface: fried tempeh, spicy sambal, and leftovers of the ginger chicken soup he had eaten earlier that afternoon. His father already sat in the head chair, while Rian sat beside him with a wide grin. His mother was pouring water into glass tumblers.

A candle burning in the center of the table flickered softly, casting the shadows of all four of them against the kitchen wall.

"Come here, Le. Sit near Dad," his father called out, patting the empty chair beside him.

Wildan cleared his throat softly, then pulled out the chair and sat down. The atmosphere felt utterly alien to him. Normally, dinnertime was the moment he avoided most. Usually, the dining table turned into a verbal war zone: his father would start bringing up cooperative debts, his mother would weep over insufficient grocery money, and their index fingers would point right at Wildan's face, chewing him out for only knowing how to consume rice without generating any income.

Yet tonight, the existing silence felt tranquil. There was not a trace of tension.

"Go ahead and take some rice and side dishes, Wildan. The fried tempeh is still warm," his mother said gently, pushing the platter toward him.

Wildan picked up a piece of tempeh. As his finger accidentally brushed against the tip of his mother's finger, that freezing, deathly cold stung him once more. Her skin felt as stiff as ice.

Wildan glanced toward his father and Rian—their faces illuminated by the candlelight looked remarkably pale, with a faint bluish tint circling their fingernails. Yet their expressions radiated deep happiness.

"Dad... are you really not heading out to the project today?" Wildan opened the conversation, trying to chase away the anxiety beginning to tickle the back of his neck.

His father scooped rice into his mouth, chewed slowly, and then gazed at Wildan with gentle eyes. "No, Le. Dad just wants to rest at home. Dad has worked hard for far too long, forgetting what it's like to sit quietly with his children."

"But, Dad... what about the debt at the hardware store up front? Isn't it due this week?" Wildan pressed further, his voice dropping slightly. Guilt began to claw at his heart. It should have been him clearing all of that if only he weren't so useless at finding work.

His father chuckled softly. The sound carried a somewhat hollow ring, like an echo inside a cave. "Don't worry about it anymore. It's all paid off. Worldly matters like that aren't worth chasing until you stress yourself out."

Wildan furrowed his brow. Worldly matters? Since when did his realistic, stubborn father speak as though he were a mystic sage?

"Yeah, Big Brother Wildan," Rian chimed in, chewing his tempeh. "Besides, tonight is a special night. We get to eat together without anyone screaming. And Big Brother doesn't smell like alcohol anymore like last week."

Wildan's face flushed hot with shame and regret. He lowered his gaze, staring down at his barely touched plate of rice.

"I'm sorry..." Wildan whispered, his throat suddenly tightening. "I'm sorry that all this time I've only been a headache. Coming home late, drinking out of frustration over not finding a job, yelling at Mom and Dad..."

His mother, sitting across the table, reached out and clasped Wildan's hand resting on the wooden surface. The grip was freezing cold, yet an extraordinarily powerful emotional pulse channeled straight into Wildan's chest.

"Mom forgave you, Le. Long before you ever asked," his mother whispered, her eyes shimmering as they reflected the candlelight. "A mother could never hate her child, no matter how much of a failure that child might seem to everyone else. To Mom, you're still my little boy who used to cry whenever he lost at marbles."

A light laugh broke out around the dining table. His father smiled broadly, and Rian joined in teasing his older brother.

"Aw, Mom's giving away all my secrets! Big Brother Wildan has an ego, you know!" Rian exclaimed happily.

"Hush, don't be like that to your brother," his father scolded, though the smile lines on his stern face never faded. His father then turned back toward Wildan, gazing at his eldest son with a profound pride Wildan had never witnessed in his entire life. "Wildan... Dad knows you're a strong kid. You have a good body, a sharp mind. You just hit a dead end lately. Don't ever give up, okay? After tonight... you have to become a responsible man."

"What do you mean, Dad, after tonight?" Wildan stared at his father in confusion. His father's tone carried the unmistakable weight of a veiled farewell.

"Dad just means, tomorrow when you start walking your path again, remember all of Dad's advice," his father cut in quickly, steering the conversation elsewhere. "Eat up. Finish your rice."

Wildan shoveled his rice back into his mouth with a storm of mixed emotions. On one hand, his heart felt intensely warm, flooded with an overwhelming joy at finally experiencing this illusory family harmony. Yet on the other hand, the logic in Wildan's head screamed continuously.

The acrid smell of burning grew sharper, sharp enough to overpower even his mother's sambal.

Every time their laughter died down, Wildan felt as though he could catch the faint, distant sound of hysterical screaming echoing from outside the house, followed by the deep, muffled rumble of a distant collapse. Yet whenever he looked up into the faces of his mother, father, and Rian, the three of them deliberately laughed louder, deliberately drawing Wildan into endless chatter just to drown out the strange noises trying to claw their way inside.

They were building a fortress of solid illusion, caging Wildan within this false warmth so the young man's soul wouldn't panic while real death stalked just beyond their walls.