In the early morning hours, in one of the backstreets of Aurentia, before the sun had yet to seep between the buildings, Ali opened his eyes in bed. The dim light filtering through the window illuminated the dust particles in the room. As he got out of bed, he couldn't help but look at the family photo on the wall as usual. In the photo, his grandfather Kamil stood young and upright in the shadow of the giant plane tree behind him.
In the kitchen, his mother Fatma was humming a folk song mixed with the steam of the kettle. This morning ritual that had been Ali's since childhood seemed a little sadder today.
"Good morning, mom," Ali said as he sat down at the table.
Fatma had read the expression on her son's face immediately. "Did you have that dream again?" she asked, placing the tea in front of him.
Ali shook his head. "The same dream. Grandpa is trying to tell me something in Wellspring Park, but he can't hear me."
Fatma's hands paused for a moment. "Don't think about those days, son. They're in the past."
But Ali knew that the past would never be in the past. Especially in this city.
On his way to school, he turned off his usual route and passed by Wellspring Park. The sign at the entrance to the park now read "Aurentia Business Center." In place of the giant plane trees that had been here twelve years ago, skyscrapers of glass and steel now rose.
In class, his teachers were talking about a new project. "Our municipality has decided to modernize Applehall Square. This project will bring new life to our city while preserving its historical texture..."
Eren, who was sitting behind Ali, muttered quietly, "The same story again."
As they sat in the cafeteria during lunch, Eren threw the newspaper on the table. "Look," he said. "The same game again. They're going to destroy the last green space in Applehall."
In the newspaper, next to the smiling photo of the mayor, a big headline read: "Applehall Square Gets a New Face! A Big Step for Modern Aurentia!"
Ali remembered the stories his grandfather had told him. Twelve years ago, they had said the same thing about Wellspring Park. They had promised "public green spaces." The result was obvious.
After school, he passed by his father's old shop. The "For Rent" sign was still on the door. As a result of the new "retail regulations" brought by the government, his father's small bookstore had gone bankrupt. Now, a branch of a large supermarket chain occupied that building.
On his way home, he stopped by Applehall Square. The old mulberry tree in the middle of the square was surrounded by tape. A worker was gluing numbers to the trunk of the tree.
"What are you doing?" Ali asked.
The worker shrugged. "Can't you see we're uprooting the tree? We need as much space as possible for the new project, this tree is magnificent, but this is the order..."
Ali touched the trunk of the tree. Under the bark was carved a small sycamore leaf symbol. A symbol of his grandfather's resistance.
That evening, he went up to the attic of their house. Among his father's old belongings, he found a box covered in dust. Inside were newspaper clippings from the Blacktown Riots, a few photographs, and at the bottom was his father's diary.
When he opened the last page of the diary, he came across a sentence written in his father's handwriting:
"My son, sometimes silence is the greatest betrayal. But waiting for the right time to speak is also a virtue."
Ali looked out the window at Applehall Square. The silhouette of the mulberry tree was clear in the light of the night lamps. He didn't know what would happen tomorrow. But he knew something had to change.