The days passed like a quiet fog, one blending into the next. Adarsh's life had become a routine, one that he performed without thought, without feeling. The world outside his window continued its endless movement, but he felt suspended in time, locked in a place where nothing changed, nothing ever moved forward.
There were no particular reasons for his state, no clear-cut problems that could be easily fixed. No one around him understood what was happening, and he had long since stopped trying to explain it. It wasn't about relationships, or money, or study, or family, or anything that people typically worried about. It wasn't something anyone could point to and fix. It was deeper than that. It was something Adarsh didn't even fully understand himself, something far too complex to put into words.
It felt like an invisible weight, an emptiness that expanded inside him, slowly pulling him under. He could never put his finger on why. Sometimes, it felt as if he was losing everything that had ever mattered, one by one, like watching the world decay without being able to do anything about it. The faces of those he once knew, people who had been a part of his life, all fading away in a blur. And beyond that, it was the nameless, faceless millions—strangers whose lives had ended, whose deaths he witnessed from a distance, each one adding to the hollow feeling inside him. There was no relief, no escape. Only a growing silence, and the relentless passage of time.
Adarsh didn't speak about it. No one could truly understand. Not his family, not his friends. It was just his burden to carry, hidden beneath the surface where no one could see. Only one person, someone far away, might have an inkling of what he was going through. But even she was lost to him now, the connection severed in some way he couldn't explain. Whether she was still out there, still living, was another question he couldn't answer. The uncertainty was just another thread in the tangled web of thoughts that kept him isolated, even from the few people he cared about.
It was on a quiet evening, like any other, that he found himself staring at the glow of his laptop screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He wasn't sure why he opened the chat window—it wasn't as if anything had changed. Nothing had. But there was a small voice inside, one that pushed him to reach out, to say something, anything. Maybe this time, it would help.
He typed the simple greeting, "Hey," and sat back, waiting for the words to come back at him.
The message blinked back almost immediately. "Hey! How's it going?"
Adarsh felt something in him shift, just a little. Simple. It was always simple with Naomi. There was no pressure, no expectations, just a quiet exchange that somehow felt more honest than anything else. No probing questions, no demands for explanations. Just two people, sharing the stillness of their lives in a way that didn't need words.
"Same old, you know?" he replied, unsure if he was lying. The words came out without thought, a reflection of the monotony he felt in every moment. "Quiet."
"Yeah, I get that," Naomi answered. "Sometimes, that's all we need, right?"
Adarsh considered her words, and for the first time in a long while, they didn't feel so foreign. Maybe quiet was enough, at least for now. He didn't need to fill the silence with anything more. He didn't have to explain why it felt so heavy.
But the weight was there, pressing down on him. It always was. It never left. And no matter how many times he tried to ignore it, to pretend it wasn't there, it still stayed. The silence in his chest was louder than any conversation he could have with anyone. He typed again.
"Do you ever feel like everything just... empties out, and you can't do anything about it?"
He hit send before he could overthink it. His hands were trembling a little, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the words that were out there now. The ones he hadn't been able to say aloud, not to anyone.
Naomi's reply came after a pause. "I think everyone feels that way sometimes, you know? Like you're stuck, like nothing you do matters. But that's not the end, okay? It won't last forever."
Adarsh read her message again, and for a moment, he didn't know how to feel about it. It won't last forever. Could it really be that simple? He couldn't remember a time when it felt like it might. But maybe Naomi was right. Maybe this wasn't forever. Maybe one day, it would change.
"I don't know if I can believe that," he typed back slowly. "It just feels like it's always been this way. Like I'm losing everything, and nothing can stop it."
There was a longer pause this time. He waited, the anxiety creeping back into his chest, but then Naomi's words appeared again.
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Adarsh. But you don't have to face it alone. I'm here, okay? You're not alone in this."
Adarsh stared at the screen for a long moment. Her words were simple, but they felt like something more—like a lifeline in the middle of an ocean he had long since given up trying to swim across. Naomi didn't ask questions. She didn't pry. She just accepted, just was there, in a way that no one else seemed to be.
He typed a final message, though the words felt heavier than they should have. "I don't know how to get out of this. I don't know how to stop feeling like this."
"You don't have to do it all at once," Naomi replied. "One step at a time, okay? Just take it one day at a time."
Adarsh took a deep breath. Maybe she was right. Maybe he didn't need to have all the answers. Maybe the only thing that mattered was taking that one small step forward, even if it felt impossible.
"Thanks," he typed simply. "I'll try."
He closed the laptop, the soft hum of the machine fading into the silence around him. The weight still pressed on him, but Naomi's words lingered in his mind like a quiet echo. One step at a time. Maybe that was enough for now.
And for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel quite as alone.