CHAPTER 4 — “The Light I Didn’t See Coming”

We Never Said Goodbye

It was a slow Thursday morning.

Mark sat at his study desk, textbook open but untouched. A highlighter rested against the crease of the page, like it had been frozen mid-thought. The paragraph he had tried reading felt like it was written in another language.

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

His phone buzzed.

A reel from Aria.

He swiped it open without thinking. A parrot stood in front of a mirror, shrieking in a pitch that felt demonic, while the caption read: "Me hyping myself up before doing literally anything."

Mark let out a small, amused breath through his nose. The sound was barely a laugh, but it felt more real than anything in his morning.

Mark:

"Where do you even find these? That parrot sounds like it's trying to summon something."

Aria 🧃:

"He's got spirit. Literally."

"Also I have a secret stash of cursed animal reels. It's a lifestyle."

Mark:

"This feels like blackmail material if I laugh too hard."

Aria 🧃:

"Too late. You smiled. The darkness has you now."

Mark:

"Wow. Possessed by a meme. What a way to go."

Aria 🧃:

"Put that on your grave: 'Laughed at a parrot. Never recovered.'"

He stared at the screen, a soft grin tugging at his lips. It wasn't just that Aria was funny—it was the way she texted. Light, chaotic, full of energy that made you forget the world for a second.

He dropped the phone on his chest and sank into the chair.

And without warning, his thoughts drifted back.

One year ago.

Same desk. Same silence.

A different Mark.

Back then, the quiet wasn't peaceful. It was isolating.

He didn't talk to people much. Not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't know how to explain how hollow everything felt. His friends had noticed, sure. Liam had tried to get him out, offered distractions. But nothing stuck.

Then one night, lying in bed with the blue Instagram glow lighting his face, he'd found himself scrolling without purpose. Through stories, through profiles. And there—buried between memes and people he didn't really care about—he saw a name.

Aria.

He barely remembered her. A comment once on Liam's post. A tag on a story. But something about her profile stopped him.

Her bio:

"Certified chaos. Uncertified advice giver."

There was no explanation for what he did next.

He tapped "Message."

Paused.

Then typed.

Mark (on Instagram, 1 year ago):

"Hey."

That was all.

No second message. No long paragraph explaining his existence. Just "hey."

He left the app open but didn't stare at the screen. He wasn't really waiting.

Until ten minutes later, it buzzed.

Aria 🧃:

"Hey. That might be the chillest message I've ever received."

Mark:

"Is that good or... borderline serial killer energy?"

Aria 🧃:

"Somewhere between charming and deeply mysterious. I approve."

Mark:

"I'll take that. Needed a win today."

Aria 🧃:

"Well then, congrats. You win a conversation with me. Small prize, high value."

Mark:

"That depends. Do you come with return policy?"

Aria 🧃:

"Absolutely not. All sales final."

Mark:

"Ruthless."

Aria 🧃:

"I try."

That night, their messages carried on for hours. Not deep talks. Not dramatic stories. Just bits and pieces. She asked him what cereal he hated most (he said raisin bran, she judged him harshly), what song he couldn't stand (he said anything auto-tuned to death, she agreed), and whether he believed in aliens ("only if they ghost people better than humans do"—which made her snort-laugh).

There was no judgment. No pressure.

Just... ease.

For the first time in weeks, maybe months, Mark felt something loosen inside his chest. Not relief. Not happiness. But a kind of weightlessness. Like he could breathe again and didn't even realize he'd forgotten how.

Back in the present, his phone buzzed again.

Aria 🧃:

"So... you just vibing with that bird reel or did it open your third eye?"

Mark:

"Just thinking about that first 'hey' I sent."

"Never thought one word would end up meaning something."

Aria 🧃:

"It's wild, right? How one message can start a whole little universe."

Mark:

"Little? That message literally got me frog memes, cat videos, and unsolicited life lessons."

Aria 🧃:

"I deliver value in strange packaging."

Mark:

"Honestly? You do."

He paused before typing the next message. Then deleted it. Not because it wasn't true—but because some things didn't need to be said just yet.

The light from his window cast a soft warmth across his desk.

The textbook was still open. The highlighter still waiting. But Mark felt better. Not because he had fixed anything. But because—somehow—he didn't feel so alone in the silence anymore.

And all it took... was one word.