Arjun was twenty—an age that was supposed to feel alive, urgent, full of direction. Instead, his life had settled into something dull and repetitive, like a song stuck on a single note.
Mornings began with unfinished assignments and the guilt that came with them. Afternoons disappeared into lectures he barely listened to. Evenings were swallowed by a part-time job that demanded his time but gave very little in return—not just in money, but in meaning.
By night, he felt empty.
Not the dramatic kind of emptiness people wrote poems about. No—his was quieter, heavier. The kind that crept in unnoticed and settled deep in his bones. The kind that made days blur together until time itself felt meaningless.
That night was no different.
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his phone dim beside him, assignments untouched. His body was tired, but his mind refused to settle. Thoughts drifted in fragments—deadlines, responsibilities, questions about his future—but none of them stayed long enough to matter.
Eventually, exhaustion won.
And he fell asleep.
No dreams. No visions. Just darkness.
Until—
4:00 a.m.
The sound came suddenly.
Temple bells.
Loud. Resonant. Violent in their presence.
They didn't belong to the quiet of night. They shattered it.
The ringing echoed unnaturally, as if it wasn't just sound, but something physical—something that reached into the air and twisted it. Each chime carried weight, vibrating through space with an intensity that felt almost… deliberate.
At that exact moment, far beyond his city, across borders and landscapes he had never seen, another sound rose into the early dawn.
In Awaran, Balochistan, the call for Fajr echoed through a mosque's speaker—soft at first, then rising, spreading across the stillness of the morning.
Two calls.
Two awakenings.
Separated by distance, yet bound together by something unseen.
Something ancient.
Something watching.
Arjun stirred.
At first, it was just irritation. His brows tightened. His breathing shifted. The sound clawed at his sleep, dragging him upward against his will.
His eyes opened slowly, heavy, unwilling—
—and the world was gone.
Not faded.
Gone.
There was no transition, no moment of confusion between dream and reality. One second he was in his bed, and the next—
He was standing.
Alone.
In a forest.
It stretched endlessly in every direction, dense and alive, yet eerily silent. Tall trees rose like ancient pillars, their branches weaving together to block out the sky. A faint mist clung to the ground, curling around his feet like it had a mind of its own.
The air felt… different.
Softer.
Cooler.
Charged.
Arjun didn't move.
His breath caught in his throat as his senses struggled to catch up. The scent of damp earth filled his lungs. Somewhere far away, water trickled faintly. The silence wasn't empty—it was alive, breathing, watching.
"Where…?"
The word barely left his lips.
And then—
He saw her.
She stood ahead, not too far, not too close—just enough to feel unreachable. As if she had always been there, waiting.
Her presence didn't disturb the forest.
It belonged to it.
Curly brown hair fell gently over her shoulders, moving slightly with the faint breeze. Her eyes—deep, warm brown—held something unreadable. Not cold, not distant… but not entirely human either.
There was a stillness in her gaze.
A quiet knowing.
She wore a red salwar suit, the fabric flowing softly around her like a flicker of flame. It wasn't bright—it didn't need to be. Against the muted tones of the forest, she stood out effortlessly, like something the world itself had chosen to highlight.
Arjun forgot how to breathe.
Every thought in his mind dissolved.
Confusion. Fear. Logic.
None of it mattered.
There was only her.
And something else—
A pull.
It wasn't forceful. It didn't command him. It simply… existed. Like gravity. Like something inevitable.
Without realizing it, Arjun took a step forward.
Then another.
His movements were slow, uncertain, but he didn't stop. The forest seemed to part for him, the mist shifting as if guiding his path. He followed her in silence, his footsteps barely making a sound against the damp earth.
She didn't look back.
Not once.
Yet somehow, he felt like she knew he was there.
They walked like that for what felt like both seconds and hours—time had no meaning here. The deeper they went, the quieter the world became, until even the faint sounds of the forest disappeared.
And then she stopped.
A river lay ahead.
It shimmered unnaturally, its surface smooth like glass, reflecting a sky that didn't quite exist. The light above wasn't from the sun, nor the moon—it was something softer, diffused, like the world itself was glowing.
She stepped closer to the water and knelt down.
The movement was slow. Graceful.
Intentional.
Dipping her hands into the river, she began to wash them, the water rippling gently at her touch. Her reflection trembled with each movement, distorting slightly, as if it couldn't fully contain her form.
Arjun stood at a distance.
Frozen.
A strange pressure built in his chest—not fear, not anxiety, but something deeper. Something sacred.
It felt wrong to speak.
Wrong to move.
Like he had stumbled into a moment he was never meant to witness.
The forest, the river, the girl—
It all felt… divine.
His mind whispered a single thought.
This must be heaven.
And then—
"Do you want to sleep all day?"
The voice crashed into the world like a stone through glass.
Everything shattered.
A sharp hit landed on his shoulder.
"You have college today, you fool!"
Arjun gasped.
His eyes flew open.
His room.
His bed.
His mother standing over him, her expression a familiar mix of irritation and concern.
The ceiling fan spun lazily above him.
Morning light seeped through the curtains.
Everything was normal.
Too normal.
The bells were gone.
The forest was gone.
She—
Was gone.
Arjun sat up slowly, his heart pounding against his ribs. His breathing was uneven, his thoughts scattered. For a moment, he didn't move, didn't speak.
He just… tried to understand.
"A dream," he muttered under his breath.
It had to be.
What else could it be?
But something didn't sit right.
Dreams faded.
This didn't.
The feeling lingered. The air of that forest, the silence, the way her presence had filled the space—it clung to him, refusing to disappear.
Even as the day went on, it stayed.
Through lectures he didn't hear.
Through conversations he didn't process.
Through hours at work that felt longer than usual.
His mind kept drifting back.
To the forest.
To the river.
To her.
There was something unfinished about it. Like a sentence that had been cut off midway. Like a door that had opened… but not fully.
And when night fell again—
Sleep came faster this time.
Almost as if something was waiting.
And then—
4:00 a.m.
The bells rang.
Arjun's eyes opened instantly.
No confusion.
No hesitation.
And this time—
He wasn't surprised.
Because deep down, he already knew.
The forest was waiting.