In a quiet neighborhood torn by noise not of celebration, but of chaos, a little boy named Eli held tight to his younger sister’s hand. She was only five. He was ten, but the burden on his shoulders made him feel forty. Their world had changed overnight — once filled with backyard games and the smell of grandma’s cooking, now replaced with sirens, silence, and the sound of hurried footsteps in the dark.
Their mother, a nurse, worked long shifts tending to the injured, and their father was missing — last seen trying to help neighbors evacuate the block when the trouble reached their street. Eli had no time to cry. He became the man of the house without ever being asked.
