The Asymmetry of Suffering: Why My Empathy Leans Heavily Towards Pheem
A question I keep turning over: “How can you feel more for Pheem than for Than in their lowest moments?”
The answer is in the foundation. It’s in what each of them carried into the fight, and what—or who—was there to catch them when they fell.
Let’s talk about Than’s foundation:
An ex-cop from a stable, loving, middle-class family.
Parents who supported his career choices unconditionally, stood by him after he was framed and fired, and never blamed him for his losses.
A protective circle of friends who confronted his enemies and consoled his grief.
When Pheem “died,” Than was held, heard, and healed by people who loved him.
His relationship with Pheem began with mutual utility (Pheem’s revenge, Than’s need for vindication).
When it shattered, he had a soft place to land. When Pheem returned, his “happy ending” was handed to him.
Now, let’s talk about Pheem’s foundation:
At 5 or 6, he witnessed his mother run over and killed by his father’s wife, while injured himself.
Taken into his father’s house only to be tortured and abused by his stepmother and half-siblings—until he was exiled abroad for his own safety.
15 years of isolation overseas, no family, his first “relationship” a transactional arrangement.
Returns for revenge, meets Than, and later discovers Than was his childhood savior. This sparks a real, desperate attachment—his first taste of unconditional care.
His unraveling is visceral: drugged, collapsing, sobbing “no one loves me, no one cares.”
Than becomes his first real love, then becomes his greatest source of abandonment.
Disowned by his last living relative (his aunt) and after accidentally shooting Than, he’s given an ultimatum by his abusive father: kill Than or be disowned.
He stages Than’s “death” to save him, only to be met with colder rejection.
Kidnapped, ready to die, saved, then abandoned with the words: “If I saw you dying, I wouldn’t save you.”*
Through the final confrontations, he is shattered—physically, emotionally, spiritually.
He enters the aftermath with no parents, no friends, no support system.
He gives Than his inheritance, the evidence, a marriage—everything.
And the most telling detail:
Even his “return” and “happy ending” with Than weren’t accidents. Pheem planned his own faked death, disappeared, and spent months in total solitude physically and emotionally reconstructing himself—just so he could re-enter Than’s life. His happiness wasn’t a gift from the narrative; it was one more tactical objective in a lifetime of survival, achieved without a single soul to support him.
Because Than’s suffering happened within a safety net.
Pheem’s suffering happened in freefall.
One had a home to return to.
The other never had a home at all—and the “happy ending” he won was built, alone, brick by brick, as his final act of devotion to the person who left him behind.
