For those who love heartfelt tales from Khaled Hosseini and Ruta Sepetys.

Despair.

No food, no water, no shelter. Laila and her brother survive on the meager bills their father brings back-and they're barely enough. What was once their warm home is now just a shell, patches of ceiling blown off and walls threatening to collapse. The battles raging outside inch closer and closer every time Laila closes her eyes.

And so the delicate balance of life cracks. As her brother's face hollows and her father's smile weakens, the seed of hope in Laila's heart begins to vanish. The warmth of a happy tomorrow, a peaceful Syria: it's all gone now, replaced by a bitter, gnawing cold.

Guilt.

Yusuf's life is nothing now. The bustle in the streets, the sun in his room, the pleas of his aunt-nothing matters. From dawn to dusk, Yusuf lies in the dark, his hand resting on the toy by his side.

A reminder of what was. A reminder of what isn't anymore. A reminder of what will never be.

As long as he can go back to sleep, the pain is quiet.

Grief.

There's no one left. No one but Yusuf, her nephew and only family. Yusuf, who withers away as days pass. Nothing Samira does can bring back the lively child she once knew. No amount of coaxing, begging or forcing can bring him back.

Nothing she does can bring back the light and laughter of a life she cherished. Nothing can bring back her husband, her brother, her parents. They're all ghosts of the past now, following her every footstep.

Just like the soldiers.