'Nightmares take us into the depths of our fears and worries, showing us the shadows that hide in our minds.'🌟

★★★★★

As I lay in bed, consumed by my nightly routine of thoughts, Aidan's name once again crept into my mind. How could someone simply vanish without a trace? And what baffled me even more was the fact that no one seemed to care, not even his own parents.

The following week arrived faster than I anticipated. 

Days passed, and there was still no sign of Aidan anywhere on campus. Frankly, my worry had escalated to a new level. What if those men who had been looking for him had actually done something terrible?

"No, Hope, you mustn't entertain such thoughts," I scolded myself inwardly, attempting to quell the rising tide of negative thoughts. 

As I entered our shared class, I spotted Kate and couldn't resist checking in on her. "Hey, Kate, how are you doing?" I asked, concern evident in my voice. She flashed me her trademark charming smile and replied, "What could possibly go wrong for the queen?"

Though our interactions were confined to our college hours, we have formed a strong bond in the short span of a few days. Rubina had forcefully enrolled me in the theatre 🎭  class for their upcoming performance. 

I felt a wave of horror wash over me when a senior informed me that I had been selected for the role of a handmaiden to the princess. It wasn't so much about the role itself but rather the fact that I suffered from stage fright.

I reached out to Akshat after our Friday class, desperately seeking any clue about Aidan's whereabouts. "Do you have any idea where Aidan might be?" I implored, my voice tinged with concern.

"Don't involve yourself in his business," Akshat scolded me sternly, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and worry. It was clear he wasn't pleased with me for mentioning Aidan's name.

Feeling both frustrated and confused, I pressed further. "But why? Why does it seem like nobody cares about him?"

The overwhelming question weighed heavily on my heart: why did it appear that nobody cared about Aidan? It seemed incomprehensible that someone could vanish without a trace, leaving behind a void of concern and indifference.

The look on Akshat's face mirrored my own inner turmoil as he sighed, his weariness evident in his eyes.

"Those of us who knew Aidan," he began, his voice tinged of sadness, "we've grown up with all his disappearing acts. It's become almost normalized for him to slip away unnoticed, even his parents never bothered to check on him."

I struggled to process this revelation. How could a person fade into the shadow, I felt an ache in my chest, a longing for understanding.

"Why?" I pressed, my voice filled with a mix of desperation and disbelief. "How is it possible?"

Akshat's gaze dropped, as if burdened by the weight of unspoken truths. He hesitated, and in that moment, I sensed there was more to the story. 

His voice, when it finally emerged, carried a weight of shared history and remorse. "We... we were part of the same circle during our school days," he revealed, his tone tinged with a hint of regret. 

A flicker of curiosity sparked within me, urging him to continue.

"I probably shouldn't tell his part of the story, Hope," he cautioned, his eyes clouded. "But I've witnessed Aidan's downfall. Our class had seen all his antics, like that one time he stumbled into class completely intoxicated, which lead to his suspension for weeks."

His words hung in the air, the weight of their significance sinking in. 

"Relax, alright? Don't stress about other people so much," he said, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he tousled my hair. With those words, he went off to his soccer practice, and I just stood there.

The warnings about Aidan, the admonitions to keep a distance of ten feet from him, suddenly made sense to me in a way they hadn't before. There was a deeper layer to Aidan, it became increasingly clear that his troubled reputation stemmed from more than just his disappearing acts.

But what had caused him to become this way? 

That question burned within me, a yearning to understand his struggles. It seemed as though nobody had taken the time to look beyond the surface, to peer into the depths of his soul. 

Aidan had become a prisoner of the image he projected, and no one had dared to delve deeper.

I am not a saint and I understand that sometimes we do want to hide so that the devil within doesn't appear and scare those we love to be around the most.

I couldn't deny the truth—I kept the café window open after our last encounter. It was a small, almost secret gesture, driven by that tiny flicker of hope within me. Part of me believed that Aidan would eventually reappear, perhaps not today, but someday. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his story, waiting to be uncovered. 

Back in my room, the weight of it all was suffocating me, and I knew I had to confide in someone before it consumed me entirely.

With a heavy sigh, I turned to Em, someone I trusted. I decided it was time to release the pent-up emotions. "Em," I began, my voice trembling slightly, "I need to talk to you about something. It's been eating me up."

Curiosity flickered in Em's eyes as they looked at me, waiting for me to continue. "Who are we talking about?" she asked gently, her voice conveying a sense of genuine concern.

"Aidan," I responded, my voice barely above a whisper. "I met him in college."

I deliberately chose to skip the part where we encountered with the shady individuals in the campus and in the concert, fearing that sharing that part of the story would only escalate Em's worry. 

It was a secret I kept close to my chest, a layer of complexity that I was not yet ready to expose. 

As explained further about his sudden disappearance; she offered her advice, urging me to wait for his return before confronting him. It made sense, for what good would it do to leap into action without fully understanding the circumstances? Patience became my only option, and I resigned myself to the waiting game.

With the poetry assignment looming ahead, I decided it was time to prepare. The professor had offered an array of topics, and I chose a subject that resonated deeply within me: 

simple four words—pain, loss, grief, and love..

"Have you ever felt the pain of being torn apart, like someone has crushed you in million pieces? And you are left with no choice but to rebuild yourself again.

Trying to console ourselves that our pain is none compare to others, that this is not the worst situation.

I failed, I still feel the extreme pain.

Loving them was hard; loosing them was harder.

Though the heart is bleeding and is shattered on the war ongoing for several years but as I glue the pieces back, it certainly looks better than before.

It's same when someone or something hurts you so bad that it stops hurting you anymore, at all. Until you allow yourself to feel it again, and it all comes back. Every hurt. Every second. Every moment. Every memory.

I am afraid that if I let them see the pain, they will break me inch by inch and I will be left with nothing but melancholy.

And how could I ever explain where it comes from? Even if they ask, even if they try to listen, even if they try to feel.

They will never understand because they haven't walked my path. They haven't seen the path, they haven't suffered the faith. 

They haven't felt, what I have felt.

I need to remain undiscovered.

For me Love means Pain.
"

Page after page, every emotion inside me evoked.

I scribbled what came in my mind. It wasn't a poetry, it was my feelings. My eyes were red from all the sobs escaped in between.

I closed the notebook, scared to even look at it or read. I won't be showing this to anyone. This was too personal to share with the class.

Feeling incredibly tired, I settled into my bed, fully ready to sleep. My body ached from the day's activities, and my mind was heavy with thoughts. Closing my eyes, I let myself drift into the realm of dreams, hoping to find rest, and renewal in the quiet embrace of the night.

In the middle of the night, I was trapped in a frightening nightmare. I heard Ethan's laughter echoing in the dark, but I couldn't see or touch him. It was as if he was just out of reach, existing in a different world.

Suddenly, Aidan's eyes appeared before me, but they belonged to a younger version of him. His eyes were filled with tears and pain as he huddled in a corner, begging for help. His voice echoed in my mind, pleading.

I felt confused and desperate, wanting to comfort and support this vulnerable version of Aidan. 

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bridge the gap between us. It left me feeling helpless and powerless.

★★★★★

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