The next few days no calls came.
Silence stretched across his broom like a trap
He replayed all the recordings.
Every one was his voice- but slightly older and weary. Like life had worn him down.
Slowly and steadily Aryan realized something.
He was only surviving, not living.
Every warning protected him but also trapped him.
He no longer took risks.
Didn't fall in love, Didn't fail, Didn't feel.
He didn't bleed,
But he didn't bloom either.
He's just safe and slowly disappearing.
Maybe the future version of himself wasn't saving him.
Maybe he was trying to undo regrets.
No one knows...