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Akhil was sleeping deeply, the kind of sleep that feels almost too peaceful, too warm. In that place between dream and waking, he was not the boy who carried burdens, nor the one who had seen too much darkness. He was just a boy, running across an endless garden, green grass brushing against his ankles, the sunlight pouring gold onto the earth.
And beside him was her.
Her laughter chimed in the air like wind chimes swaying in the breeze. Her hand slipped into his, fingers warm, delicate. They ran without direction, without reason, only because their hearts wanted to. Every time Akhil looked at her, his chest felt lighter, as though life was finally something worth smiling about.
But dreams never last.
The sound came first—screeching tires, a metallic roar. Then the sight of headlights cutting across the garden like blades. Akhil turned, reaching for her, but the car came too fast, too merciless. The crash echoed louder than thunder.
Her body fell.
Akhil's scream never left his throat. Instead, he jolted awake, drenched in sweat, breath ragged. Tears blurred his vision, hot and heavy, falling before he even understood why. He pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes and whispered to the silence:
"It was just a dream… just a dream."
His voice cracked.
But the image of her broken body lingered like a shadow he couldn't chase away. For a long moment he sat frozen on the edge of his bed, then forced himself up. Step by step, he dragged his body into the washroom. Cold water splashed against his face. He stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror—dark circles, eyes swollen, yet lips pressed into a straight line.
No weakness. Not today.
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The morning sun painted the streets with pale light as Akhil walked to the old bus stop near his lane. This was the same road he had walked countless times before—home to school, school to home—but today his heart beat differently. Today, he felt… hopeful.
He stood there, hands in his pockets, waiting. The bus arrived with its usual screech, and when he stepped inside, silence followed.
Dozens of eyes turned toward him.
Students whispered among themselves, blinking as if they were seeing a stranger. Akhil had changed. He was no longer the thin, quiet boy they remembered. His shoulders were broader, his posture sharper. There was a strength in him now, something no one could ignore.
He didn't pay them much attention. His mind was already elsewhere.
The school building came into view, tall and familiar. As soon as he entered the gates, teachers gathered around him one after another.
"Akhil! Where have you been? Why didn't you inform us?"
"Are you feeling alright? You look… different."
"You missed your exams, do you know that?"
Their questions overlapped, each face curious, worried, surprised. Akhil bowed his head politely, muttering vague answers, but he barely heard them. His eyes scanned the corridors, searching.
He walked faster, almost running, until he reached his classroom door.
The second he stepped inside, a cheer erupted.
"Akii!"
"Akhuu! You're back, bro!"
Friends surrounded him, slapping his back, grinning wide. He smiled faintly, trying to match their energy, but his eyes kept darting to every corner of the room. Searching. Always searching.
But she wasn't there.
His chest tightened, but he brushed it off. Maybe she was late. Maybe she was in the library. He sat at his desk, tapping his fingers against the wood, restless.
The first period passed. She didn't come.
The second period ended. Still no sign of her.
By lunch break, Akhil's stomach churned. Food was served, voices filled the cafeteria, but his tray sat untouched. He couldn't eat, couldn't think, couldn't breathe without wondering where she was. His friends noticed but didn't dare ask.
The bell rang again. Afternoon classes dragged on like torture.
Finally, the class teacher walked in. She stood at the front, clutching a file against her chest. Something about her face was off—it was pale, her lips trembling, her eyes heavy with sorrow.
"Students…" she began, voice uneven. "I have something difficult to share."
But Akhil wasn't listening. His chin rested on his palm, eyes fixed on the window. In his head, he pictured her walking in late, smiling apologetically. Maybe she would scold him for not calling. Maybe she would hug him.
He didn't hear the teacher's words at all.
Until a hand touched his shoulder.
"Akii…"
It was Abhinav, his closest friend. Akhil turned.
The look on Abhinav's face froze him. Pale. Empty. Almost trembling. The same despair mirrored on the teacher's face.
"What is it?" Akhil asked, frowning. "Why do you look like that? Did I miss something important?"
Abhinav swallowed hard, his lips quivering before he forced the words out.
"She's… gone."
Akhil blinked. "What?"
"Your girl," Abhinav whispered, his voice breaking. "She… she died."
For a heartbeat, the world went silent. Then Akhil laughed, sharp and bitter, slamming his desk with his fist.
"What kind of prank is this?!" he shouted. "You think this is funny? You want a beating, Abhi?"
Abhinav's eyes shimmered with tears. "I knew you wouldn't believe me… but look around you."
Akhil froze. Slowly, his gaze shifted.
Everywhere—desks, windows, walls—faces stared at him. Faces of his classmates. Faces drained of color, heavy with grief. Not a single person smiled. Not a single person dared to speak.
And in that silence, Akhil's heart began to crack.
He stumbled back, his chair scraping against the floor. "No… no, this isn't real. Tell me you're lying! Tell me!" His voice trembled, rising with every word.
No one answered.
The teacher lowered her head. Abhinav's lips pressed shut. Someone at the back sniffled quietly.
Akhil's eyes burned. Tears spilled down his cheeks before he could stop them. His throat felt raw, strangled. He clutched the strap of his school bag like it was the only thing holding him upright.
Then, without another word, he turned.
Step by step, he walked out of the classroom.
The corridor stretched endlessly before him, every sound muted, every corner blurred. His footsteps echoed like thunder. He didn't stop when someone called his name. He didn't stop when the teacher shouted after him.
He just kept walking, until the door opened to the outside world.
And with each step, something inside him broke.
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