Aryan and his team continued working until late in the afternoon. Their bodies were already feeling fatigued, but they persevered with enthusiasm. Hammers clanged, heavy machinery moved back and forth, and the sound of the foreman's instructions filled the air around the construction site. Sweat streamed down Aryan's face, but he knew the work had to be finished on time. As the sun began to lean towards the west, signaling the end of the workday, a sense of relief washed over Aryan.
A long bell rang, signaling that the day's work was complete. The workers started gathering their tools and moving towards the assembly area in the field. Aryan sighed deeply, removing his hard hat and walking with heavy steps towards the lineup. Dust from the site filled the air that afternoon, but no one complained. It was just part of their daily routine.
The workers stood in neat rows. There was no conversation, only the sound of footsteps and the whisper of the evening breeze accompanying them. Soon, the foreman arrived, looking tired yet satisfied. He stopped in front of the row and surveyed the workers.
"Thank you for your work today," he said with a voice that was both heavy and firm.
In unison, Aryan and his colleagues replied, "Thank you too, sir!" Their voices echoed a sense of camaraderie that had developed among them, despite the hard and exhausting work.
The foreman continued, "Let's call it a day. Remember to get plenty of rest for tomorrow's work."
Aryan and his teammates nodded. "Alright, sir," they replied almost in chorus, following the instructions they had heard countless times each evening.
The foreman gave a small nod, then turned and walked towards his car parked at the edge of the site. He opened the car door, got in, and after the engine roared to life, the vehicle slowly exited the site, leaving a trail of dust behind. Once the foreman's car was out of sight, the workers began to disperse. One by one, they said their goodbyes and headed home, ending a long and tiring day.
Aryan glanced at the two friends who had kept him company during breaks. They smiled wearily but warmly, saying their farewells before parting ways. Then, Aryan started his slow walk home to his rented house. The route he took was the same one he traveled every day, connecting the construction site to his home.
As he walked, the setting sun cast a warm orange glow over the sidewalk. Aryan's shadow stretched long beside him. The evening air was slightly cooler, but his sweat-soaked body still felt the remnants of the afternoon heat.
He walked along the roadside, observing the vehicles passing by. There were cars speeding along, likely office workers hurrying home. The sound of horns was faint, signaling the busyness of those inside the vehicles. Motorcycles whizzed by quickly, their riders clad in helmets and jackets, seemingly racing against time to get home faster. Large trucks, heavily laden, rumbled along more slowly, shaking the ground beneath them with each turn of their wheels.
Aryan watched the vehicles with a blank stare. Each time a vehicle passed by, he felt like he was part of an ongoing flow of time that never stopped. The people inside those cars might have better lives, more organized. They might have better jobs, nicer homes, and perhaps families waiting for them with a warm dinner. Meanwhile, Aryan was just a construction worker returning to his small rented house, alone.
"Will my life always be like this?" Aryan whispered to himself, letting out a long sigh. He wondered if his life would always be filled with tiring routines, heavy work, and dreams that seemed increasingly out of reach.
As he walked, his gaze was drawn to a group of schoolchildren heading home. They walked together on the sidewalk, their white and gray uniforms bright under the evening sun. Their faces were cheerful, full of laughter and playfulness. One girl laughed loudly after hearing a joke from her friend, while others teased each other, jumping around with energy.
Seeing this, Aryan felt a pang of longing. How happy they seemed, he thought. He reminisced about his own school days—times when he could laugh freely with friends without worrying about life's burdens or major responsibilities. Aryan envied them, missing the carefree youth that now felt so distant from his current life. With a bittersweet smile, he continued his walk, sinking deeper into his thoughts.
Not far from there, Aryan also noticed several couples walking hand in hand. They appeared affectionate, strolling side by side with smiles on their faces. One couple was seen whispering to each other, sharing soft laughs, and then the man kissed the woman's forehead. Another pair walked silently, but their hands remained tightly clasped, as if they never wanted to be separated, even for a second.
Seeing this, Aryan smiled wistfully. "How wonderful it would be to have a partner now," Aryan murmured quietly, almost inaudibly. He smiled with a touch of bitterness, feeling as though his life was trapped in an endless loop—hard work on the construction site, returning to his small rented house, and spending nights in solitude. At his age, Aryan had never experienced having a significant other. For him, love was a luxury he could not reach.
He looked at the couples holding hands with a tinge of envy. They seemed happy, enjoying the simple moment of walking together in the evening. For Aryan, such moments felt very distant from his reality. Working as a construction laborer with a meager salary made him hesitate to imagine having a partner. "Even if I had a partner now," Aryan muttered, "could I provide for her? Could I make her happy?"
He shook his head, trying to cast aside those thoughts. For now, his priority was to survive and get through each day. Thinking about love and relationships seemed too extravagant for someone like him. Yet, deep down, Aryan knew there was a hidden desire—an urge to experience affection, attention, and companionship with someone special. But for now, it was just a dream that felt too far out of reach.
Aryan continued walking, lost in his own thoughts. His steps felt heavy, not just from physical exhaustion after a day's work, but also from the mental burden that seemed to pile up in his mind. Along the way, his thoughts wandered to deeper concerns. He began reflecting on his long-standing obsession—his desire to become a cultivator. "Such a foolish dream," Aryan muttered with a small laugh, realizing how naive he was for still thinking about it. He glanced ahead and saw his modest rented house. Finally, after a long walk, Aryan arrived at the front door. The small rental may not be impressive, but for him, it was a place where he could rest and unwind after a long day.
Aryan opened the door slowly, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. The atmosphere inside the house was very different from the hustle and bustle outside. It was quiet and empty. There was no one to greet him, no sounds of laughter or conversation. Only silence greeted Aryan, his constant companion each time he came home. He took off his shoes, placed them in the corner, and then walked to the small bed in the corner of the room. Without much thought, Aryan lay down on the thin, worn mattress.
"At least I can rest now," Aryan thought, staring at the slightly cracked ceiling of the rented room. He closed his eyes, trying to push away the thoughts that crowded his mind. Yet, despite his physical exhaustion, his mind continued to race.
Aryan thought about his monotonous life, how each day felt like an endless repetition. From waking up in the morning, going to work, doing physically demanding tasks, and then returning home with a sense of emptiness. His heart was filled with unanswered questions. What is the purpose of his life? Will he continue to work as a construction worker all his life? And why does the dream of becoming a cultivator still haunt him, even though he knows it is merely a fantasy?
Amid his chaotic thoughts, Aryan heard the whisper of the wind coming through the window. The evening was growing darker, and the sounds of life outside were beginning to fade. He took a deep breath, trying to accept his simple reality. But deep in his heart, there remained a small glimmer of hope—that one day, somehow, his life might change. Whether it would be by finding someone to love or perhaps, in his wildest dreams, becoming the cultivator he had dreamed of since childhood.
With mixed thoughts, Aryan finally closed his eyes, letting exhaustion pull him into sleep. In the quiet of his rented house, perhaps in his dreams, Aryan would return to his own world—a world where his dreams were still alive, and where he could become something more than just a construction worker. A world where he could surpass his own limits, becoming someone different, stronger, freer.