My pulse quickened. I tried yelling his name out loud but there was no response from him.
It took me a few moments to search quickly from one end of the apartment to the other. Ren seemed to disappear into the wind as it was evident that he had never existed in the first place. I closed and locked the main doors from the inside last night and the doors were still locked when I went to check. How did he go without me hearing even the slightest gossip about him?
Stunned I walked from the living room to the bedroom and back again trying to figure out what just occurred. Had I imagined everything? Was Ren just a figment of my exhausted mind, conjured up by stress and fear? It seemed crazy and at the same time unthinkable yet… the alternative was equally unbelievable.
I looked at the cushions on the couch which looked rumpled and that was the only indication of someone's presence. But as the minutes passed and the silence of the apartment grew louder, the quietness began to make a comeback and skepticism began to set in. Perhaps, yes, and it was really only a dream. A rather graphic, strangely unprovable fantasy when the name struck the faces all too real.
But then, why did I feel this lingering sense of loss? Why did I feel like something important had slipped through my fingers? I shook my head, trying to let go of the thoughts but they were as persistent as a bad memory.
The rest of the time I kept looking at the door. Perhaps Ren would come back any moment and give some ridiculous excuse for going away. But he never did.
I waited for him, half-expecting to hear the soft creak of the bathroom door or the quiet shuffle of feet on the floorboards, but the apartment remained silent. The minutes went on and were elongated even more, and yet no sign of Ren could be noticed.
As the faint rays of the sunlight trickled in through the windows, I had quite a bad feeling in my tummy. Perhaps he felt the need to go to the roof again to get some fresh air, I said to myself but even this I could not fathom why he did not have to say anything to me.
Closing my eyes, I couldn't wait any longer to embark on that journey. It was time for me to head to the café where I worked and as much as I wanted to know what was going on, I also had to be on my job. I placed a note on the table just in case he returned while I was gone, then took my belongings and walked out the house.
The day at work was so uneventful that I could hardly remember it and my thoughts were too clouded to concentrate on work. I mustered all the fake smiles and friendly greetings, processed orders and served customers but all my mind could focus on was Ren and his sudden disappearance. I felt like I was in some sort of purgatory – the real world and whatever Ren had introduced into my life were intertwined.
Finally at the end of my shift I rushed towards the apartment and my heart was beating fast with anticipation and fear. Perhaps he would be there, sitting and explaining, then join in the laughter and brush aside my fears. The feeling of loneliness that comes with waking up in the morning is as opening the door to nothing but an empty room is something that cannot even be described.
The couch was in its usual state as I had left this in the morning with the blanket thrown on the side, pillows scattered all over- but there was no evidence that someone was here. I went round the apartment gingerly, as if I might have overlooked him, although there was no way I could have done that. He was gone.
I could literally feel a lump at the back of my throat as I stood in the middle of the door looking at the room where everything had happened. I looked at the note that I had scribbled on the table and it still remained untouched. At this, I thought to myself that I might have dreamt about it. Perhaps I had been that tired that I imagined the whole twisted up story as a way of dealing with the pressure.
But deep down, I knew it wasn't that simpleThe feel of his hand, the intensity in his eyes, the panic in his tone—all of it was too vivid to be a mere figment of my imagination.
I moved back to the window again where I stood looking at the skyline again stretching my neck to see when the shades in the city were starting to grow big. The rooftop was always at the back of my mind and it was as if somebody was whispering to me to go there. If he had really been there, if he had really needed my help, then the roof, it must have the answers I was seeking so desperately.
Taking another long drag and exhaling, I was compelled to go back up the roof, hoping against hope that I might be able to find out what really happened? Indeed, my mind screwed with confusion as I climbed up the building with each step I took up to the top. However when I got up to the roof and stepped out, all I saw was an abandoned, quiet and vacant area.
There was nothing. No sign of Ren, no trace of his presence. The roof being just as it was before I ever met him, lonely.
I stayed with my arms crossed for a while longer, breathing the cold and rather bracing air, experiencing in some curious and quite unnatural way, both in the manifest and the latent sense of the word frustrated. Perhaps it had all been a dream, a dream which was not easily accounted for, but if that was so, why did the dream seem so real? That is why I was wondering why I could not just let the issue slide off my back.
Finally, I turned and started going back down the stairs, my head full of questions I couldn't seem to answer any longer. I didn't know what was happening.
I shook my head yet again, trying to get rid of the thoughts. I had to move on, I had to concentrate on my job, my life. If I let myself think too much, I really would go crazy. I couldn't daydream or night dream or any kind of fantasizing permitted. I had to deal with the real world, and the only thing in it that mattered was work and the next moment of sleep. A week went by; a second week. I distracted myself with work, and slightly sick with blast from the past, I told myself not to think about it. I had to act as though he meant nothing.
Days turned into weeks, and slowly, I began to forget. Life went back to normal—work, sleep, repeat. The memory of Ren became a distant echo, something I could almost convince myself had never happened. I pushed it all to the back of my mind, focusing on my responsibilities, trying to find some semblance of stability.
But then, one day, when everything seemed to be settling into a routine, something changed. It was late at night when I once more discovered myself on the roof, the location where everything had first started. The cool night air brushed against my skin as I leaned against the railing and gazed out at the city lights below. For a split second, I permitted myself a moment of faux calm, a moment where I could act as though I was breathing without it being an intentional act.
And then I heard it.
A sound was coming from the shadows. It was low and deep—maybe even a little ritzy. I was almost too scared to peer into the darkness, and yet, by this time, I had taken a few steps forward.
My voice was a croak when I called out, "Hello?"
No response.
I hesitated, my heart thundering in my chest, but for some reason, I could not help but inch forward. The shadows seemed to part as I approached, and I could finally make out the form of a man slumped against the wall of the rooftop. He was huddled there, his body almost crumpled, one hand clutched tightly to his side and the other pressed to his forehead. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear him—he was groaning, and from the sound of it, he was in some desperate kind of pain.
"Hello," I breathed, trying to stave off the growing warmth of my own faint. As I lowered myself beside him, I forced my voice into something resembling steadiness. "Are you all right?"
The man didn't respond at first, just continued to groan, his breathing labored. I could see the strain in his posture, the way his shoulders trembled with each breath. My mind raced, trying to process what was happening. Who was this man? How did he get here? And why did he seem so familiar?
I held my necklace on the neck hardly and slowly extended my hand to his shoulder, my fingers grazing his skin. He was cold and damp to the touch. "You're hurt," I murmured. "Let me help you."
He raised his head as if the effort of doing so was all-consuming. I held my breath as his face came into view, the light revealing a countenance so familiar yet so unexpected.
It was Ren.
His features were drawn, his eyes clouded with pain and exhaustion. Blood trickled down from a cut on his temple, and his normally sharp expression was dulled by the agony he was clearly in.
"Ren?" I gasped, my heart lurching as I recognized him. "What happened to you?"
He tried to speak, but all that came out was a ragged breath, followed by another groan. His grip on his side tightened, and I noticed for the first time the dark stain spreading across his shirt—a wound, deep and bleeding.
Panic surged through me. I didn't know what to do, how to help him. All I knew was that I couldn't let him die here. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw something that made my blood run cold—a flicker of fear, of desperation, as if he knew something I didn't.
This was no ordinary injury, no simple accident. Something—or someone—had done this to him, and whatever it was, it wasn't over yet.