The dream came true my dream of becoming a department head and handling my own project. No more taunts from anyone, no more rude behavior. I'm finally free. It still feels unreal. I can't thank ma'am and Mr. CEO enough for this opportunity. Starting tomorrow, everything changes. I'll be able to buy my own apartment, renovate the entire place of my home.
I took a cab and returned to my apartment. The place was still empty, but my heart felt full. Finally, the fruit of my hard work was about to come down to me I was going to taste the sweetness of it. I was genuinely happy. This promotion wasn't just about a raise in salary; it was something much deeper. It was about freedom. The kind of freedom that comes with trust, with being seen, with finally being valued. That kind of progress at work brings a different level of happiness one that can't be measured in money.
"Mumma, I got a promotion!" I finally said after a week, calling home. They had been calling me every day, every evening but I kept ignoring it. My mood had been off. I didn't feel like talking to anyone. But today… today was different. I wanted to share the good news with my family with Mom, Dad, and my brother. Though I heard he had gone out with his friends again. The moment Mom heard about my promotion, she started crying. Not out of sadness, but joy. Her little girl was finally moving forward… and she felt it all, more than anyone else ever could.
Papa was happy too. He kept giving me blessings over the phone, saying, "Don't overthink... I told you, God always does what's best." In my family, the belief in God is on another level. Anything good that happens is always credited to His will. And honestly, I believe in God too. I've realized—it's not just hard work that takes us forward. We also need a bit of luck… and maybe, God gives that luck when the time is right.
I was thinking about asking her about Tej… but the courage had already faded.
Then, I heard his voice in the background.
He was talking with Dad—something about his company.
Meanwhile, Mom kept giving me her usual advice—to sleep early, eat on time, and take care of myself.
I was quietly trying to catch what Tej was saying…
But his voice wasn't clear enough. I strained to hear, but all I got were bits and pieces… like distant echoes of a conversation I wasn't part of anymore.
I cut the call.
But my mind didn't stop—I started thinking about him again.
I pictured him working in the fields, sleeves rolled up, sweat on his forehead… then sitting casually on the couch, scrolling through his phone… or quietly eating at the dining table.
These small, ordinary moments kept flashing in my mind.
Why does his presence linger even in silence? Why do memories of him return so easily, even when I try not to think?
Does he really matter to me? Have I truly not forgotten him?
Why is it so hard for me?
It was just seven days… just one week of memories, and yet, they refuse to fade.
Why can't they just disappear?
I don't even want to see his face anymore—so why does it still haunt me?
How… how can I forget his face, when my heart keeps holding onto it like it meant everything?
I believe I'll forgive him… maybe not instantly, but slowly. It might take weeks, or even months.
But now that I'm not going back home, it's easier—easier to forgive him from a distance.
I don't have to see his face every day anymore.
And maybe that's what I needed… space, silence, and time—to heal without being reminded of what hurt me.
Tonight, for the first time in a long while, I slept peacefully. There was no anxiety, no pain—just a quiet kind of happiness wrapping around me like a warm blanket. The promotion, the freedom, the feeling of finally being seen… it made my heart feel lighter. I didn't even realize when I fell asleep.
But then came the dream.
I was standing alone in a wide, empty space—dimly lit, silent, and cold. There was no sound, no wind, just stillness. And then… I saw him.
A man.
He had no face.
Just a blank space where his features should have been.
He didn't speak. He didn't move at first.
But I could feel his eyes watching me, piercing through the silence.
Then slowly, he began walking toward me.
Step by step. Quiet, steady, haunting.
In his hands, he was holding something a bouquet of white roses. At first, they looked beautiful, almost glowing. But as he came closer, I saw it.
Blood.
Dark red stains on the delicate petals.
Dripping from the stems… onto the floor.
I couldn't move. I just stood there, frozen, staring at him.
And then
I woke up.
My chest was heaving, breath sharp and quick.
Sweat clung to my forehead. My hands were trembling.
What… what did I just see?
Who was he?
Why did it feel so real?
I looked around my room, reassuring myself it was just a dream. But the image of that faceless man, of the blood-stained roses, wouldn't leave my mind.
A strange fear settled in my chest quiet, but heavy.
What did that dream mean?
Was it just my mind playing tricks… or something more?
I reached for the glass on my bedside table with trembling hands and drank the water quickly, hoping it would calm me down. But my throat still felt dry, and my heart was racing like I'd seen something real something alive. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and leaned back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling in the dark.
I closed my eyes, trying to sleep again… but I couldn't.
Every time I blinked, I saw him that faceless man—walking toward me, holding those blood-stained white roses. It wasn't just a dream. It felt like a warning… like a presence that had followed me out of sleep and into reality.
I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, as if that could protect me from something I didn't even understand.
Why did it feel so personal? So directed at me?
I tried to tell myself it was just my imagination stress, overthinking, maybe even guilt I hadn't acknowledged.
But deep inside, I was afraid.
Not just of the dream.
But of what it could mean.
And that made it even harder to close my eyes again.