Chapter 3: The Fall
Time didn't stop, but it felt like it did. In that moment, standing there in shock, I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. My legs went numb. My mind screamed, "This can't be real." But it was. Yaku's smirk wasn't a joke. It was victory. And I was the fool who had lost everything without knowing I was even playing a game.
"You're lying," I muttered. "This is a prank, right?"
But Yaku just shrugged. "Pakhi was never real, bro. It was me. From day one. Every word, every emoji, every 'I love you.' All me."
He showed me the fake account on his phone. I recognized the background apps, his theme, even his typing style. It was undeniable. My heart sank into something colder than depression. It was betrayal in its purest form.
I couldn't breathe properly. My chest tightened. I stepped back, trembling. "Why would you do this to me?"
His smirk faltered. "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me," I said, voice cracking.
He looked away, then back at me with dead eyes. "You made the server. Everyone liked you. You had everything. I was always the quiet one, the backup. You wouldn't stop talking about love and pain, acting like some broken hero. So we made a plan."
I shook my head, heart racing. "We?"
He nodded. "Light, Innocent, Sae… and me. Mission Rudro. To break your heart. To show you that none of this—this server, this online world—was ever real."
I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to. My knees gave out and I dropped to the sidewalk. Cars passed. People walked by. But to me, the world had ended.
Yaku crouched beside me. "You needed to be reminded what pain really feels like."
"Why?" I whispered.
"Because you trusted too much."
He stood up and walked away, leaving me on the ground, alone. The weight of the truth crushed my lungs. Pakhi was fake. The love I felt—fake. The late-night calls, the songs, the promises—lies. Lies from the very people I had called my best friends.
When I got home, I threw my phone across the room. It shattered, just like my heart. My mom called from outside the room, but I didn't respond. I curled up in bed, shaking, crying. For hours. For days.
I stopped eating properly. I stopped sleeping. My eyes burned from the tears. I kept checking Discord on my old laptop, hoping maybe… just maybe… someone would message me. But the server was empty. Silent. Dead.
I tried messaging Light. Blocked.
I tried Sae. Blocked.
I tried Innocent. He read my messages but never replied.
Yaku never blocked me. He wanted me to see everything. The old DMs. The group screenshots. Even the chat logs from "Mission Rudro."
They had laughed about everything. The first time Pakhi said "I love you," Light had replied, "LMAO he fell for it." Sae had joked about how I was probably crying already. Innocent stayed quiet most of the time, only saying "Are you sure this isn't too far?"
But none of them stopped it.
None of them cared.
I spiraled. I stopped going outside. I deleted all my social media. I couldn't face the world anymore. Every smile I saw reminded me of the fake one Pakhi had sent. Every couple walking hand in hand felt like a knife.
The depression wasn't just emotional. It became physical. I started smoking—something I had never done before. At first, it helped numb the pain. But soon, I was coughing violently. Blood appeared in my tissues. I didn't tell anyone.
I didn't want help.
I wanted to disappear.
My health got worse. My skin lost its color. My ribs became visible. My mom cried, but I pushed her away. I told her it was nothing. That I was just tired. She begged me to see a doctor. I refused.
One night, I collapsed in the bathroom. The coughing wouldn't stop. I looked in the mirror, and I didn't recognize the person staring back.
The doctor's diagnosis came a week later: early-stage lung cancer. Triggered by chain-smoking, worsened by stress.
I laughed when I heard it. Not because it was funny. But because it felt like the final punchline in a cruel joke.
I was 18.
18, and already drowning in disease, heartbreak, and betrayal.
They had taken everything. My trust. My health. My identity. My will to live.
And yet… a part of me still wanted to know why. Why would people I once called brothers do this?
I went back through our old messages, searching for clues. Maybe there was a moment where it all changed. Maybe I missed the signs. Maybe it was my fault.
But no. There was no warning. Just a shift. A silent storm growing behind every smile.
I tried writing about it. At first, just words. Then sentences. Then long pages. My pain turned into poetry. My heartbreak into storytelling. I posted my story anonymously on a blog. People started reading it. Some messaged me, saying they had gone through similar things.
I wasn't alone after all.
I wasn't the only one betrayed.
For the first time in months, I felt something strange—hope.
I began treatment. Slowly. Painfully. I started eating again. Not much, but enough to survive. I opened up to my mom. She cried again, but this time, I let her hug me. I didn't push her away.
I joined a new online community. Nothing fancy. Just people who shared their pain. No fake names. No lies. Just real people.
And one day, I got a DM.
It was from someone with a simple username: "HopeWalker."
They wrote: "I read your blog. I want you to know… you're not broken. You're just healing."
I didn't reply right away. But I smiled.
It wasn't a romantic smile. It wasn't a fantasy. It was real.
Because healing is slow. It's messy. It doesn't come in perfect moments. But it begins the moment you decide that your pain will not be your ending.
Mission Rudro had tried to break me.
But I was still here.
Still breathing.
Still standing.
And that… was enough.
(To be continued in Chapter 4...)