The tears wouldn't stop. They slipped down her cheeks one after another, soaking her pillow until it felt heavy beneath her face. Piya turned restlessly, hugging the blanket tighter as if it could hide her from her own thoughts.
But thoughts didn't need doors or windows. They found her anyway.
Her phone still lay beside her, the photo of Ayush staring back like a cruel reminder. She quickly locked the screen and pressed it to her chest.
"Mr. Moon," she whispered into the darkness, her voice shaky, "why does it hurt so much?"
The pale light of the moon spilled gently through the window, as if listening. And maybe it was foolish, maybe even childish, but Piya had always spoken to the moon like it was her friend. She had even named it Mr. Moon, her secret keeper, the only one who never judged.
"You know everything, don't you?" she murmured, her eyes fixed on the silver glow above. "You know I've liked him for years... and he never even knew. Not once."
Her voice cracked, the words spilling out like water breaking through a dam.
"I saw everything, Mr. Moon. The way he pushed his hair back when he laughed. The way he always held the door open for others. The way he treated his friends like they were family. I memorized all his little habits, but he never noticed me. To him, I was just... background."
Her chest tightened, a sharp ache that made her curl her knees closer.
"And now..." The tears blurred her sight again. "Now he loves someone else. Someone prettier, smarter, better than me. And I'm just here, crying to the moon like a fool."
She bit her lip, her insecurities clawing louder inside her mind.
Maybe I was never enough. Maybe I'll never be enough.
"Tell me, Mr. Moon," she whispered, her voice trembling, "am I so unlovable? Is there something wrong with me?"
Outside, the night was silent. The moon gave no answers, only its soft, patient light. And somehow, that silence was kinder than any words could have been.
She sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "You're the only one I can say this to. Mom and Dad wouldn't understand. My friends wouldn't understand. But you... you don't laugh at me."
For a moment, she let herself breathe. Her chest still hurt, but the words she'd poured out felt lighter somehow, like Mr. Moon had carried part of the weight away.
Her voice softened. "You know what's funny? Maybe I was stupid to like Ayush. Maybe I liked the idea of him more than who he really was."
Her gaze lingered on the moon, fragile but searching. "But if I could ask for someone... if I could dream, even just once..."
Her lips curled into a sad, wistful smile.
"He'd be someone kind. Not fake kind, but real. Someone who knows what he wants, who doesn't play with people's hearts. Someone strong, but still soft enough to listen. And... he'd see me. Really see me. Not like I'm invisible, but like I matter."
Her cheeks warmed at her own words, and she hid beneath her blanket as though the moon could tease her. "Sounds impossible, right? I know. But it feels nice to say it out loud, at least to you."
"I know all these kinds of men are fictional, but a girl can dream, right? Of course... except you, my dear Mr. Moon."
Mr. Moon hung above in silence, glowing patiently, holding her fragile wish in its light.
Her eyes grew heavy, exhaustion tugging her back into sleep. The phone slipped from her hand, the screen dark.
Before she drifted off completely, she whispered one last time, "Please... let this pain go away. Even just a little."
And with Mr. Moon keeping guard outside her window, Piya finally surrendered to dreams — dreams where her heart didn't ache, and where maybe, just maybe, someone she had yet to meet might look at her the way she had always longed for.