The rain tapped insistently against the windowpane, soft at first, then louder, drumming like a restless heartbeat. The city outside shimmered under wet streets and distant neon, reflections fractured by the downpour. Reina lay still on her bed, body sore from hours of practice, but her mind refused the release of sleep. Night no longer promised peace; it felt like surrender — into something darker, older, something that remembered what she wished to forget.
She turned onto her side, letting the chill of the damp glass touch her skin as she watched raindrops snake down the window. Moonlight caught the glisten of moisture on her arm, making her look like someone else breathing, someone fragile and unfamiliar. Rain always reminded her of him. Not the warmth, but the shadow that had once followed her quietly through her life.
Her breath trembled. Shadows stretched across the ceiling, drawn long by the streetlights and moonlight, reaching like quiet scars across her room.
She thought of the moment earlier — Adrian's teasing smile, the warmth in his voice when he asked, "Did you sleep last night?" The words should have been casual, harmless. But they weren't. They were a pinprick of light, stirring something she had buried deep. A part of her that still, sometimes, hoped someone might care enough to look deeper.
Reina exhaled, rolling onto her back. Her mind betrayed her again, as it always did when the lights went out.
There it was again — the shadow.The one who had once promised light.The one whose voice had filled her world, only to leave it hollow.
It started softly, like the rain tapping at her window — a memory not meant to hurt anymore. His laughter, low and calm, steadying her heartbeat. The way he had called her name, as if it were a secret reserved for him alone. She remembered the first time he held her hand — warmth like a promise, a fleeting sense of belonging.
But promises can rot.
She remembered the night it all changed. Silence swallowing the laughter. His eyes no longer meeting hers, but sliding past, as if she were background noise. How he grew colder, quieter — as if she had become too much. No words were needed; the absence of them screamed the truth.
When he left, he didn't slam doors. He walked away quietly. As if she had never existed loudly enough to be missed.
That quietness — crueler than anything — lingered.
Reina pressed her palms against her face. She could still hear his voice sometimes, dismissing her fears, making her doubt her own pain. He had been meant to bring light, but left only darkness, burrowing into her skin, whispering: You were never enough. Too fragile to be chosen.
Even now, as she smiled at Adrian, as she laughed with Melissa, she feared the cracks in her soul would be seen — and abandoned like before.
The night outside remembered everything she tried to forget.
She sat up slowly, hair falling over her face. Her breath was shallow, trembling. Her chest ached, not from heartbreak, but exhaustion of memory. The walls, pale blue, appeared grey under dim light, like ghosts in the room.
She wanted to scream, but only pressed her hand to her mouth and breathed.
You're okay. Just tired.
But it wasn't just fatigue. It was grief, stubborn and persistent, with nowhere left to go.
Her phone lit up beside her, piercing the darkness.
1 new message
Blinking, she wiped her eyes and picked it up. It was Adrian.
Hey, you okay?You looked kinda spaced out after practice today.
Reina stared at the screen. Her chest tightened — not from pain, but from a warmth that startled her. She hadn't expected him to remember, not after hours had passed. Fingers hovered before she typed:
Yeah. Just tired.
A part of her wanted to delete it — it sounded too plain, too defensive. But before overthinking could strike again, his reply arrived:
Don't burn yourself out. You're doing great, you know?
Her lips parted. Her throat went dry. Words like that, offered genuinely, rarely reached her ears.
She typed back slowly:
I'm trying.
Three dots appeared. Then:
That's enough for now.
Reina stared at it. Fragile and trembling, something inside her softened.
No grand conversations, no declarations, no hidden meanings. Just a simple acknowledgment. But in a life of feeling invisible, even this — even someone noticing her exhaustion — felt like a lifeline.
She imagined his voice, teasing yet gentle.
That's enough for now.
It echoed inside her chest.
She placed her phone down, leaning against the headboard. Her body still ached, her mind remained a battlefield, but there was quiet now. The darkness hadn't vanished, but paused, giving her a space to breathe.
The shadow from her past lingered, but this time, it didn't dominate. The one who had told her she was too much — perhaps she was. But tonight, she realized: being too much for someone who couldn't stay didn't mean she was unworthy of love. She was meant for someone who could stand in her storms without trying to silence them.
The clock ticked quietly. Rain pattered against the roof, a lullaby of soft, persistent life. Reina caught her reflection in the window, half-hidden in moonlight, eyes swollen yet bright. There was beauty in the tiredness — a softness earned only through breaking.
Her fingers traced patterns on the blanket. She thought again of Adrian's message, letting the words rest gently against her heartbeat.
For years, she had tried to be louder, happier, more — anything but herself. Tonight, enough felt like peace.
She leaned back, head resting on her pillow, body relaxing as if something inside her had finally unclenched. Moonlight spilled across the floor like silver rain.
Earlier thoughts of life's unfairness felt distant, though not gone. For now, the world didn't press against her. Someone had seen her — enough to matter.
The night still remembered her pain, her ghosts, her silent screams. But for the first time, Reina felt it listening not to wound her, but to hold her until she could breathe again.
Eyes closing slowly, breath steadying, darkness softened — patient, understanding. And maybe that was enough for tonight.
The dream arrived without warning, slipping into her mind like smoke curling through a cracked window. Reina found herself standing in a vast, empty hall. The floor was slick with rain, reflections trembling beneath her feet. Shadows clung to the corners like living things, curling and twisting. She knew it before she saw him — the shadow figure. His presence filled the space, even though he didn't move. Even in absence, he was absolute.
"Why are you here?" she whispered, voice trembling, swallowed by the echoing hall.
The figure remained still, silent. She took a step forward, heart hammering. The air was cold, sharper than winter wind, searing her lungs with each breath. She reached out, calling his name — over and over — but the figure only flickered, like smoke in a draft, distant, untouchable.
"I need you. Please… please answer me," she cried, desperation cutting her voice into shards.
Finally, he moved, just enough for her to see him clearly — face half-hidden, eyes dark pools that reflected nothing of the warmth she once knew. She raised her phone in the dream, dialing, calling, calling again. But each ring was interrupted by a click, a cut — he ignored her every time, letting the calls die in silence.
Tears blurred her vision. "Why won't you—" Her voice broke. "Why can't you just—"
But he didn't answer. He didn't move closer. He didn't speak. And then the walls themselves seemed to lean in, pressing her down, muffling her cries. Every word she shouted bounced back like it belonged to someone else. She wanted to run, to throw herself at him, to force him to remember, but her legs felt like stone.
Finally, in the dream, she fell to her knees, sobs wracking her body. "Please, just… just hear me. Just this once. Hear me!"
And then, nothing. Silence, vast and empty, swallowing her whole.
She woke with a gasp, sweat clinging to her skin, sheets twisted around her like bindings. Heart racing, body trembling, she clutched the blanket to her chest. Moonlight streamed in through the curtains, catching the dampness of her hair. The remnants of the dream lingered like smoke, heavy and suffocating, and for a moment she felt trapped in the shadowed hall once more.
Shaking her head, she whispered to herself, "It's just a dream… just a dream."
Slowly, she rose, trembling, but forcing herself forward. Today had to be faced. She showered, dressed, brushed her hair until the knots softened, and finally sat at her desk, staring at the soft glow of her phone for courage. Adrian. Today she would see him again.
The walk to the cafeteria was quiet, the city alive around her, indifferent to the ghosts trailing her. And then she saw him — Adrian, leaning against the wall, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he caught her glance. His presence was light, easy, almost mischievous.
"Hey, Reina," he said, voice teasing, warm. "Survived practice?"
She smiled, a small, shaky thing, nodding. "Barely."
He laughed, the sound infectious, and held the door for her. Walking beside him, she felt the shadow of the dream ebb, replaced by a strange, soft warmth.
Lunch was casual, sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off his hair in a way that made her want to reach out and touch it. He made jokes — little ones, teasing and playful — leaning a fraction closer when he spoke, eyes bright, mischievous. Reina found herself laughing, sometimes at nothing, sometimes just at him, heart fluttering in ways she hadn't expected.
"So," he said, leaning back, a hint of challenge in his grin, "you've been avoiding telling me your secret snack obsession. I'm dying to know."
She laughed, embarrassed, shrugging. "I don't know if it's a big deal. Just… fries, I guess."
"Fries?" His grin widened. "Bold choice. Couldn't have guessed. I thought someone like you would have something dramatic — like chocolate-covered pickles or something."
Reina laughed again, heat rising in her cheeks. "Not that dramatic."
"You're full of surprises, you know that?" he said, leaning closer, just a little, enough for her pulse to spike.
She swallowed, feeling both nervous and strangely at ease. The world was brighter here, even if just for a moment. The memory of the dream, of the shadowed figure who had ignored her calls, seemed distant, like smoke dissolving in sunlight. And yet, that memory made her feel something sharper — a reminder of how much she could still feel, how deeply she could be touched.
"Thanks… for noticing me," she said softly, almost as if the words were meant to tether her to reality.
Adrian's grin softened, and he tilted his head. "You don't have to thank me. It's… easy to notice someone like you."
Her heart fluttered, a warm pulse replacing the icy fingers of fear. He was charming, undeniably so — a little flirty, playful, teasing — but somehow, genuine. It wasn't like the shadow who had left silence behind; it was light, acknowledging her presence without diminishing her.
As lunch ended and they parted ways, she felt the smallest of sparks inside her, cautious but insistent. Her day hadn't erased the night, hadn't banished the shadow figure from her mind. But it had given her something else — a sense that even after pain, warmth could return, almost unbidden, in someone's smile, a teasing word, a look that lingered a heartbeat too long.
Reina walked back through the bustling streets, rain still clinging to the edges of clouds from last night, and let herself believe — just a little — that the shadows could coexist with sunlight. That she could survive a haunting and still find moments that made her heart skip, that reminded her she was alive, and capable of feeling something new.
And maybe, she thought, glancing at her phone as if Adrian might text again, that was enough for now.