The first bell rang through the campus, but Devendra was already awake, his alarm unnecessary. It was a Saturday, and for the first time in years, he didn't feel the weight of dread pressing on his chest. He stretched, letting the sunlight slide across his skin, warming him.
"It's… peaceful," he thought, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "I can breathe without fear."
By the time he arrived at college, Sita was waiting, tapping her foot impatiently, her face lighting up as she saw him approach.
"Finally," she said, smiling. "You're late again!"
"Late? I thought I was early this time," Devendra replied, laughing. The sound was easy, natural. No tension, no pause, no hesitation.
They walked through the campus together, hand in hand, talking about classes, mutual friends, and plans for the weekend. Devendra realized that conversations like these, ordinary and mundane, were treasures he had once thought impossible to experience.
Sitting under the shade of a large tree in the courtyard, he let himself reflect.
"How far I've come," he thought. "Sixteen years old… college… a girlfriend… friends… a life. And I survived everything. I survived her, the nightmares, the fear. And I'm still here."
Sita nudged him playfully. "Hey, earth to Devendra. You're spacing out again."
He laughed, feeling the tension in his shoulders loosen. "Sorry… just thinking."
"Thinking about the future?" she asked, tilting her head.
"About living," he replied honestly. "Finally, I can just… live."
The day passed in a gentle blur—classes, laughter, small talks in the corridors, studying in the library, walking back through the city streets lit by the warm glow of late afternoon. Devendra felt a sense of normalcy settle deep into him, like a blanket finally wrapping around his life.
That night, back in his apartment, he sat by the balcony, the city alive beneath him. The wind was cool, carrying distant sounds of people, motorbikes, and street vendors. He looked up at the stars and whispered to himself, "I'm okay. I'm really okay."
The past girl, the nightmares, the endless trauma—all of it now felt like fragments of someone else's life. He was Devendra, sixteen years old, alive, breathing, and finally free.
And as he finally lay down to sleep, he realized that the terror that once defined him had no hold here.
"I'm done running," he thought. "I'm done hiding. I'm living. And nothing… nothing can take that away."