The alley suddenly felt smaller.
The rain grew heavier again, louder, like it was trying to drown the silence.
The boy—Ethan—looked around as if searching for escape from his own confusion.
Ethan: “Why do you know that name?”
The woman stepped forward, tears now openly falling.
Mom: “Because it’s yours… you’re my son.”
Emily froze.
Emily (shocked): “Mom…?”
But Ethan shook his head violently.
Ethan: “No. I don’t have a mom. I don’t have anyone.”
His voice cracked—not with anger, but fear.
The woman reached into her pocket with shaking hands and pulled out a small, worn photograph.
She turned it toward him.
A child. Same eyes. Same scar. Same smile.
Ethan stared at it.
His breath stopped.
For a moment, the alley disappeared.
Only memory remained.
A faint whisper escaped him:
Ethan: “I… remember rain…”
Then suddenly—he dropped the sandwich.
And collapsed to his knees, overwhelmed by a flood of fragments he couldn’t control.
The woman rushed forward.
Mom (crying): “Ethan, I’m here… I never stopped looking for you…”
But just as her hands almost reached him—
Ethan looked up.
And whispered something that changed everything.
Ethan: “Then… why did I end up like this?”
