Who is she?

"Who is it?" I asked, my voice a little louder than a whisper. The voice was like a gentle breeze on a summer day, and it seemed to be calling me.

"Come here, Suvam, sit on my lap," the voice said, growing louder. "Don't be shy, my cute boy. Look, look, the view is so romantic. The sunset is yellow, the sky is blue."

I looked around, trying to take it all in. We were on top of a mountain, surrounded by dancing trees and singing birds. The hills stretched out before us, a breathtaking view. But I was confused. Who was this girl, and why was she calling me?

She had long, silky white hair, like an angel's. Her voice was like a peacock's call, drawing me in. "Oh, my snail boy, come here fast, come to my one and only heart," she said, running towards me.

I felt sleepy, my ears and eyes growing heavy. I couldn't see her face clearly, but I was drawn to her. As I moved forward, my desire to be close to her grew. Yet, the more I tried to get near, the more she seemed to withdraw.

"Wait, don't go," I said, reaching out a hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, Suvam," she said, her voice gentle. "You're the one who's creating the distance. You're the one who's holding back."

I looked down, realizing she was right. I didn't have any legs. I was stuck.

"Why can't I move?" I asked, feeling a sense of desperation.

"Because you're afraid to take the next step," she said, her eyes sparkling with a knowing light. "You're afraid to let go."

I looked up at her, feeling a sense of longing. I wanted to let go, to be free. But I didn't know how.

"Show me," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled, her face radiant. "Come with me," she said, holding out her hand.

I took it, feeling a jolt of electricity run through me. But before I could savor the feeling, I was yanked forward, and I let out a panicked cry. "Who's there? Who's pulling me?" I tried to look back, but when I turned my head, she was gone. The void left in her wake was like a chasm, threatening to consume me whole. My heart racing, I stumbled forward, my senses reeling. Then, the ground gave way beneath me, and I plummeted into darkness. I landed with a jolt, my stomach lurching, and found myself in a grave. But it was empty, a hollow shell that seemed to mock me with its silence. I lay there, alone and disoriented, surrounded by the oppressive stillness that had been waiting for me all along. The only sound was the echo of my own heartbeat, a cruel reminder that I was still alive, trapped in the the silence of the grave.

Ahhh!! My eyes are getting blurred... I can't see her face... who is she? "Ahhh!!! Hhh, I can't breathe... why, what, where... what happened?" Why is this happening to me?

I slowly opened my eyes, feeling like I was emerging from a salty ocean. My eyes burned, and tears streamed down my face. I didn't know what was happening or why. I didn't do anything, and yet...

"Sometime I cry, cry for the thing that doesn't have an answer... that doesn't have meaning," I whispered to myself. "Why do my eyes search for emotions? But my eyes win and give me tears, yet fail to find the reason for my tears... or maybe my eyes don't want me to feel the pain behind its tears?"

As I slowly opened my eyes, I realized I was lying on a hospital bed. The dream I had was still vivid in my mind, but I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. I didn't know why I was here or what had happened to me.

Just then, my mom rushed in, carrying a tray of food. "Suvam, are you awake?!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mix of relief and worry. She hurried over to me, tears welling up in her eyes, and enveloped me in a tight hug, like a bird protecting her young.

I tried to reassure her, speaking calmly and with a hint of charm, "I'm okay, Mama... your son is brave." My mom smiled, her eyes still brimming with tears, and replied, "Yes, my son is so brave."

As she held me, I couldn't help but think to myself, "Am I really brave, or is it just a word created to give hope to others?" But I didn't voice my doubts aloud.

My mom seemed to sense that I had said something, and asked, "Suvam, did you say something?" I forced a laugh and replied, "No, Mama, you must have misheard."

Just then, the doctor appeared, a look of concern etched on his face. "Suvam, you're awake! And Suvam..." But my mom didn't let him finish, her anxiety getting the better of her.

"Dr., Dr., what happened to my son? Why did he lose consciousness?" she asked, her voice laced with worry. The doctor took a deep breath, preparing to explain, but I could sense that the truth was going to be difficult to hear.

"Doctor, how's my son's condition?" Mrs. KC asked anxiously, her voice trembling with worry.

"Ah, Mrs. KC, your son is stable for now," the doctor replied, his tone calm and reassuring. "I've administered some eye drops to help him regain consciousness. He lost consciousness briefly when he opened his eyes, but don't worry, it's a common reaction."

Mrs. KC's eyes widened with fear. "What's wrong with him, Doctor? You said it's a serious illness?"

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "Yes, Mrs. KC, I'm afraid your son has asthma. It's a chronic respiratory disease that affects the airways, causing recurring episodes of wheezing, coughing, and shortness of breath."

Mrs. KC's face paled. "Asthma? But he's so young... how did this happen?"

"It's not uncommon, Mrs. KC," the doctor explained. "Asthma can affect anyone, regardless of age. In your son's case, it's still in its early stages. We've caught it early, which is good news. If we treat him promptly and properly, we can manage the condition and prevent it from getting worse."

Mrs. KC's eyes welled up with tears. "What does this mean for his future, Doctor? Will he be okay?"

The doctor's expression turned serious. "With proper treatment and care, your son can lead a normal life. He'll need to take medication regularly, avoid triggers that can exacerbate the condition, and make some lifestyle changes. But with your support and cooperation, I'm confident he'll be able to manage his asthma and live a healthy, active life."

Mrs. KC nodded, still looking worried but slightly reassured. "Thank you, Doctor. What's the next step?"

"We'll need to run some tests to determine the severity of his asthma and develop a treatment plan tailored to his needs," the doctor explained. "I'll also provide you with guidance on how to manage his condition and what to do in case of an asthma attack."

Mrs. KC nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay, Doctor. I'll do whatever it takes to help my son."

The next morning, I woke up feeling a mix of emotions. I couldn't help but think about the doctor's diagnosis the day before. Asthma. It was a lot to take in. As I got ready for school, I couldn't help but think about how some kids would fake illnesses just to get a day off. But what choice did we have? The education system was designed to push us to our limits, and sometimes it felt like it was more about meeting expectations than about learning for ourselves. I chuckled to myself as I thought about it. "Anyway, it doesn't matter to me who I'm reading for myself or others."

I headed downstairs to grab a quick breakfast before heading out the door. "Ok, Mama, I'm off to school," I said, trying to sound more cheerful than I felt. My mom looked up from her morning routine, concern etched on her face. "Take care of yourself, okay? And don't forget to take your medication." I nodded, feeling a pang of anxiety.

I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door, making my way to the bus stop. As I waited, I checked my watch for what felt like the hundredth time. The bus was running late, and I was starting to get anxious. "It's already so late, and the bus still hasn't arrived yet," I muttered to myself, tapping my foot impatiently on the pavement. I hoped it would show up soon ..I didn't want to be late for my first class.

As I stood at the bus stop, I witnessed a tragic scene unfold before my eyes. A truck was approaching, and a kid suddenly stepped out into the road. I thought he would make it across safely, so I didn't pay much attention to him at first. But as the truck drew closer, the kid froze, and I was faced with a moral dilemma. Should I try to save him? Should I let him die? The weight of the decision hung heavy in the air, and I was paralyzed with indecision. As the wind picked up, the kid's fate was sealed. He was struck by the truck and fell to the ground, his life slipping away in an instant. I stood there, frozen in shock, as the reality of what had just happened sunk in. I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I had intervened. Would I have been hailed as a hero, a lifesaver? But I didn't want to be liked or admired for selfish reasons. I didn't want to be seen as a hero just to boost my own ego. And so, I stood there, silent and still, as the kid's life slipped away. It wasn't until a few minutes later, when people started to arrive on the scene, that I snapped back to reality. They were shouting and screaming, their voices piercing the air. Some of them rushed towards me, their faces etched with anger and accusation. "Why didn't you save him?" they yelled, their words cutting through the air like knives. "You monster! You'll go to hell!" "Don't you have a mother?" "Didn't your parents teach you anything?" "You shouldn't have been born!" The words stung, and I felt a pang of discomfort. I said nothing, choosing to remain silent in the face of their anger. But inside, I was thinking, "This is my world, and I'm the one who created them. Now they're yelling at me, saying terrible things? Ah, it's so noisy. Why am I feeling uncomfortable in my own world? I shouldn't be." The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me. I had created this world, and yet I was being judged and condemned by the very people I had brought into existence. It was a strange and unsettling feeling, one that left me feeling uneasy and unsure of myself.

As I stood there, still reeling from the aftermath of the accident, I noticed a girl pushing her way through the crowd. She had a determined look on her face, and her eyes were fixed on me. "Huh, who is this girl?" I thought to myself. "Why does it seem like she's defending me from them?" She approached me with a sense of urgency, her long hair bouncing with each step. She grabbed my shoulder and shook it gently, her voice piercing through the din of the crowd. "Hey! Are you listening, man? Hey, hey! Are you alive? Tell me!" I was jolted back to reality, my mind foggy from the shock of the accident. I replied, still dazed, "Yeah, yeah, I'm... I'm okay." The girl didn't hesitate, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards her. She helped me navigate through the crowd, shielding me from the angry mob that was still hurling insults and accusations my way. "You're evil!" they shouted. "You let a man die right in front of your eyes, even though you could have saved him!" I couldn't help but wonder, "If people depend on God, then why are they depending on me to save that man?" Why do they thank God for the kid's life instead of thanking the man who saved kid's life? It didn't make sense. They would say things like, "Thank God you ordered him to save that man," as if God was the one who had intervened. It was a strange and confusing world, where people's expectations and beliefs seemed to be at odds with reality.

The girl continued to hold my hand, leading me away from the crowd and into a quiet, deserted area. She turned to me, her eyes searching mine, and asked, "Are you dumb? Why are you getting numb? Why didn't you say anything to them? Don't you care about yourself? Or do you not have any emotions, huh?" I remained silent, unsure of how to respond. I felt like I was in a daze, still trying to process the events that had just unfolded. Finally, I managed to stammer out a response, "I didn't know what I should have done... I didn't feel like I'm alive." The girl's expression softened, and she fell silent for a moment, as if she was trying to understand me. It was as if she saw something in me that I didn't even see in myself. After a pause, she spoke up, her voice gentle but firm, "Okay... okay... from now on, think about yourself too, okay?" I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. I didn't know what she meant, or how to prioritize my own needs. I shook my head, feeling a sense of uncertainty, and replied, "I don't know..." The girl's eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I felt a sense of connection, a sense that she understood me in a way .... But I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.

Just as the girl and I were having a moment, her friend called out to her, "Hey! What are you doing there? Come here, we're getting late... you know." The girl turned to her friend, "Oh, okay... just a minute." She then turned back to me, her expression serious, "Hey, again, I'm saying, don't do the same mistake, okay?" I wasn't quite sure what she meant, but I nodded anyway. As I looked at her, I couldn't help but think that she was tiny compared to me, yet she was acting like a giant. I chuckled to myself, "Hehhehe." The girl's expression changed from serious to confused and angry, "Why are you laughing? Are you out of your mind? Huh? Stupid!" She said, laughing and looking at me with an absurd expression. I realized that I must have misunderstood her, and she was trying to be serious. She turned to leave, "Okay, I'm going, I'm getting late... take good care and go home." I replied, "You don't need to worry about me." She shot back, "idiot." And then, in a moment of realization, we both exclaimed, "I should have at least asked your name!" It was a strange and awkward moment, but it was also kind of endearing.

As I walked into my house, I called out to my mom, "Mom, I'm home!" But there was no response. It seemed like she hadn't returned from the market yet. I was exhausted and decided to head straight to my room to catch some rest. Just as I was about to collapse onto my bed, I heard a knock at the door. "Wait, I'm coming!" I shouted, making my way to the entrance. As I opened the door, a familiar face greeted me with a mischievous grin. "Hey, bastard, I heard that after you kissed your girlfriend, you're having trouble breathing? Huh?" Rinos, my childhood friend, said with a chuckle, clearly teasing me.

I rolled my eyes and replied, "Shut up! I don't have a girlfriend." Rinos and I had been friends since we were kids, despite attending different schools and not always being in close proximity. Our friendship was unique, and I liked to define it as "friendship doesn't need to be defined by showing our closeness, and the reason for our closeness has no reason." It was a bond that didn't need explanation or justification.

Rinos, still grinning, asked, "Oi, moron! Are you feeling okay now? I brought some fruits, you should eat them all. I bought them for you, and you'll finish them in less than four days, I'm sure." I playfully retorted, "Okay, got it. If I die from eating your fruits, it's your fault. Maybe I should write a letter before eating, just in case, as a backup plan." Rinos shot back, "You... I'll kill you instead!" We both burst out laughing, and I invited him in, happy to have some company after the strange events of the day.

As we sat down, Rinos asked, "So, what's been going on? You look like you've seen a ghost." I hesitated, unsure of how to share the story of the accident and the girl who had helped me. But Rinos was my friend, and I knew I could trust him. I took a deep breath and began to recount the events of the day, leaving out no details. Rinos listened intently, his expression changing from amusement to concern as I spoke. When I finished, he let out a low whistle. "Dude, that's crazy. You're lucky to be alive." I nodded in agreement, still trying to process everything that had happened.

Rinos gazed at me with a mixture of amusement and concern, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he said, "Bastard! You're insane, huh?" We chatted for about an hour, discussing everything from the accident to our favorite TV shows. But as the conversation drew to a close, Rinos's expression turned serious, his face set in a grave expression, as if the world was about to come to an end. "Take care of yourself, okay?" he said, his voice low and urgent. "And one thing, you're becoming hollow day by day. Just remember, I'm your best friend. If you fall into some difficulty, don't hesitate to call me." He paused, his eyes boring into mine. "And one more thing, I know you since we were kids, and I know you better than you know yourself." With that, he turned to leave, saying, "Okay, I'm going home. Take care of yourself." I was taken aback by his words, and I couldn't seem to find the right response. I mumbled something incoherent, trying to process what he had just said. "What's that jerk talking about? I don't understand why..." I trailed off, feeling a sense of unease. Rinos's words had struck a chord, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that he was trying to tell me something important, something that I wasn't ready to hear.

As the hours passed, my mom finally returned from the market, her expression a picture of worry and concern. Her face seemed to ask, "Why is this happening?" and "Is this some kind of injustice?" I greeted her warmly, "Mom, welcome home." But she remained silent, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for something. I could sense her inner turmoil, her thoughts racing with questions and doubts. It was clear that she had heard about the morning's incident, and her face reflected her confusion and uncertainty. She was torn between believing the rumors and trusting me, her son. But in the end, she chose to believe in me, and her expression slowly returned to normal. I decided to act as if nothing was amiss, trying to put her at ease. "Momma, I'm hungry. Can you make something tasty for me?" I asked, trying to sound as normal as possible. She smiled, her eyes softening, and replied, "As you wish, my lovely son." The tension in the air dissipated, and we went about our evening routine, trying to put the morning's events behind us. But I knew that the incident had left its mark, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that things would never be the same again.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months. Before I knew it, two months had passed, and I was back in school, sitting in my second-year class. The atmosphere was familiar, with some new students added to the mix. I was chatting with a classmate, but I still couldn't remember the names of about 80% of my old classmates. The new and old students had blended together, and some of my classmates were already trying to flirt with the new girls. I looked at them with a mix of disdain and boredom, thinking they were like leeches. As the teacher droned on, the lesson dragged into its second period. Suddenly, a student appeared at the door and asked, "May I come in, sir?" The classroom was noisy, and I didn't catch her voice clearly, but I was sure it was a girl. I thought to myself, "So boring... I should just zone out and go to my own world." I was about to tune out, but then I heard a voice that sent a shiver down my spine. It was a voice I had heard before, a voice that was etched in my memory. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to look at the newcomer. "Ah, yes, come in," the teacher replied, and the girl walked into the classroom, her eyes scanning the room until they met mine...and...I