Eleven-year-old Kevin sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, toy soldiers spread out in front of him like a battlefield.

He gripped two soldiers in his hands, making them march across the floor as his soft voice narrated their imaginary mission. One soldier barked orders, the other charged ahead, and Kevin’s mind was alive with a story full of adventure and action.

He could almost hear the sounds of battle—the booming explosions, the clash of weapons, the cheers of victory. But as vivid as his imagination was, something still felt hollow.

He paused mid-battle and glanced at his older brother Jake’s bed. It was empty, though he could still remember the days when Jake used to join him. They would build forts, tell stories, and spend hours lost in their own made-up worlds. Those memories felt like they belonged to another life.

Just then, Jake walked in, face buried in his phone. Without looking up, he collapsed onto his bed, thumbs moving rapidly across the glowing screen.

Kevin’s heart leapt. Maybe this was the chance to bring him back.

“Hey, Jake! Want to play? We could use the soldiers, or maybe a board game, like we used to!” Kevin asked, his voice hopeful.

Jake didn’t even glance at him. “Not now, Kev. I’m busy. Don’t bother me.”

The smile faded from Kevin’s face. His excitement turned into a heavy ache. Looking down at the scattered soldiers, the game suddenly seemed pointless.

He stood quietly, leaving the toys where they were, and wandered downstairs.

In the dining room, his father, Norman, sat hunched over a laptop, papers spread like fallen leaves across the table. His fingers tapped furiously on the keys, his eyes locked on the glowing screen.

“Dad?” Kevin’s voice was soft, almost hesitant. “Do you think maybe we could all watch a movie tonight? Or play a game together?”

Norman didn’t look up. “Not now, Kevin. I’ve got too much work. Find something to do on your own, okay?”

Kevin’s shoulders slumped. It was always the same answer. Work, work, work. No time for family.

He turned toward his mother’s room. Standing at her closed door, he lifted his hand to knock—but froze. From inside, he heard muffled sobs. His mother was crying.

Kevin’s throat tightened. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know how. Instead, he backed away silently, feeling lonelier than ever.

Back in his room, he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his toy soldiers. Everyone was in their own world: Jake with his phone, Dad with his work, Mom with her hidden tears.

That’s when it struck him: it was technology. Phones, laptops, screens—they had stolen his family away. They used to laugh together, watch movies, play board games. Now, it felt like they lived in the same house but in different universes.

Kevin’s eyes drifted toward the electricity service panel he had seen his dad use during storms. He remembered the click of the switch, the way the house would fall into silence, the sudden stillness.

A bold idea formed in his mind. If technology was tearing them apart, maybe cutting it off could bring them back.

Taking a deep breath, Kevin crept outside, opened the panel, and flipped the main breaker. The house plunged into darkness. Then, with a determined motion, he pulled the breaker out, making sure no one could turn it back on.

“Now,” he whispered to himself, “they’ll have no choice but to spend time together.”

Inside, confusion erupted. Jake stormed into the living room.

“What happened to the Wi-Fi? I can’t text my friends!” he shouted, pacing restlessly.

Their mother, Kate, appeared next, eyes red and swollen. She looked more tired than angry.

Norman entered last, frowning. “The breaker’s damaged. We won’t have power until morning. The repair service can’t come before then.”

Kevin bit back a smile. His plan had worked—at least partly.

He ran upstairs, grabbed his favorite board game, and hurried back down. But passing his mother’s room, he froze again. The door was ajar this time. On her desk lay divorce papers, smudged with tear stains.

Kevin’s heart dropped. His parents were on the brink of splitting up—and he had never even known.

Shaken, he rushed downstairs with the game. “Since we don’t have electricity, how about we play this?” he asked, forcing a hopeful smile.

At first, there was silence. Jake groaned, Norman sighed, and even Kate looked uncertain. But with nothing else to do, they agreed.

Kate lit candles, filling the room with a warm glow. She brought snacks, while Norman and Jake helped arrange pillows and beanbags on the floor. The atmosphere softened.

As the game began, something shifted. Laughter filled the room. Jake teased Kevin, Norman cracked jokes, Kate smiled for the first time in days. Slowly, the walls between them began to crumble.

Kevin watched with joy as his family reconnected. His plan had given them a chance to remember what it felt like to be together.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. An electrician had arrived unexpectedly and fixed the breaker in minutes. The lights flickered back on.

Kevin’s heart sank. Would everything go back to the way it was?

But before anyone could grab a device, Kate quietly switched the lights off again. “I think we’re fine with just the candles tonight,” she said softly.

Norman and Jake exchanged a glance, then smiled. They sat back down, ready to keep playing. For the first time in months, Kevin felt his family was whole.

The next morning, Kevin awoke early. The house felt different—lighter, calmer. In the kitchen, something in the trash caught his eye. He bent down and froze.

The divorce papers. Torn into pieces.

A wave of relief swept through him. His daring act hadn’t just given them one night together—it had sparked something bigger. His parents were willing to try again.

Kevin smiled. Maybe things weren’t as broken as they seemed. Maybe one night of darkness had brought back the light his family had been missing.