Eight years after the invasion by extraterrestrial beings, life on Earth was slowly, yet steadily, returning to normal.
Despite the overwhelming devastation, humanity had found strength from places no one expected. Using newfound power, they had managed to fight back, pushing the invaders from their soil.
The battle had cost them dearly. More than seventy percent of the population had been lost in the chaos. But in the midst of all that loss, humans had managed to carve out small pockets of survival—tiny, scattered settlements that stood as the last bastions of human life.
The survivors constructed shelters to protect themselves from further invasion, and in time, these shelters became villages and cities. Each one was a fragile testament to human resilience, rising from the ashes of the old world.
In one such village, in a room that looked like it belonged to a child, a woman with light blue hair was cleaning, her movements slow, almost mechanical. The bed in the room was far too small for an adult, and the room itself held the weight of memories that had lingered far too long.
Standing by the door, a young man, no older than seventeen, leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his gaze shifting from the woman to the clock on the wall.
"Aren't you done yet? We're going to be late," Bibek's voice was edged with impatience, the seconds ticking by louder in his mind than in reality.
But Sophia didn't answer. Her attention was fixed elsewhere.
He let out a frustrated sigh and spoke again, this time more urgently.
"You planned to join the academy today, to start your training. Remember? And here we are, just minutes away from being late." Bibek glanced at the clock, his voice rising with concern. "The instructor is strict. I heard he doesn't tolerate mistakes. If we're late on our first day..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I can't imagine what will happen to us. But don't worry. I'll take the punishment for you. As your childhood friend, I can at least do that much, right?"
He tried to lighten the mood with his usual teasing tone, but it had no effect.
"Sophia? Sophie?" His voice softened as he took a step closer, his concern deepening.
Still, there was no response.
Sophia stood motionless, holding a pillow from the bed, her fingers gripping it tightly as if it were her lifeline. Her eyes were distant, unseeing. Bibek's heart clenched, and he knew why.
This room wasn't theirs. It belonged to their childhood friend—the one they'd lost during the invasion. Ravi.
Six years had passed since the day they were separated, and still, there was no word. No news had come. The forces who'd gone to investigate hadn't found any bodies, and most people assumed the worst—that their friend had been devoured by the monsters. But Sophia refused to believe that. She couldn't. She'd always held onto the belief that Ravi was alive.
"He's alive, I know it," she would whisper to herself, even when no one else believed her. Well, no one except Bibek.
Six months ago, Sophia had come to him, tears streaming down her face, her sapphire-like eyes swollen from crying. She could barely speak, her words tangled in sobs, her body trembling with the weight of her grief.
Bibek had been helpless, unsure of how to comfort her. All he could do was hold her, let her cry in his arms, his heart aching with every shudder that wracked her frame. He couldn't bear to see her like this—broken and alone.
After what felt like an eternity, he gently asked, "What happened?"
Sophia had barely been able to speak, but between her sobs, she managed to whisper, "I... I can't... sense him."
Bibek didn't understand who she meant at first. "Who can't you sense?" he asked, his voice tentative.
Without hesitation, she answered, "Ravi. I can't sense him."
The name hit Bibek like a cold wave. Ravi. Their childhood friend, thought to be dead. How could she still sense him if he were gone? He had no answer. He only guessed it had something to do with Sophia's unique abilities, her powers that even she didn't fully understand.
Bibek, feeling a deep ache in his chest, chose not to press her further. There was a quiet pain in his heart, but he ignored it, focusing instead on Sophia's trembling form. Could it really be true? Was Ravi really gone?
Before he could think any further, he felt a shift in the room. He looked over at Sophia, who had moved slowly, her tears now replaced with a strange calm. The color was returning to her face, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips.
Bibek's heart skipped a beat, unsure of what he was seeing. Just moments ago, she had been lost in her sorrow, and now—this? He stared at her, searching for answers.
Sophia's eyes sparkled with something else now—hope. She turned to Bibek and, with a voice full of emotion, whispered, "I... I can sense him. I can sense him!"
Joy flooded her expression as she threw her arms around him, her body shaking with a mix of relief and happiness.
But Bibek stood frozen, the warmth of her hug doing little to soothe the ache in his chest. He was happy for her, of course. If Ravi was alive, it would bring her peace, and that was all he'd ever wanted for her. But there was something bitter in his heart, something he couldn't shake.
He had known Sophia for as long as he could remember. He'd watched her grow, seen her fall in love with Ravi. He knew her heart better than anyone else did. It was why she continued to care for his room, even though he had been gone for so long. It was why she kept the hope alive, even when everyone else had given up.
Bibek had always known about her feelings for Ravi. And somewhere along the way, he had fallen for her too. Deeply. But the words had never come.
He loved her. He loved her more than he could ever express. But now, standing there, feeling the weight of her arms around him, he couldn't bring himself to say it. The words were trapped, caught in his throat.
His heart ached for her, for everything they had lost, for everything they would never have. But all he could do was stand there in silence, holding her without ever speaking the truth.
He would never regret loving her. But he knew—he knew deep down—that his silence would lead to regret. Yet, he accepted it. Because that was all he could do.
***
Thanks for reading everyone.