Sana gazed at her reflection in the dormitory mirror. The image of a young woman—strong, hopeful—seemed to elude her, shrouded by the doubt in her eyes. Her long black hair was neatly tied back, accentuating her delicate yet determined features. Her simplicity wasn't just a habit; it was a legacy, a quiet pride passed down through generations. But tonight, her round eyes, which usually shone with spirit, looked fragile, burdened by an invisible weight.
The plain white dress she wore felt like a reflection of her carefully laid-out future: a symbol of her goal to become a doctor. It marked the beginning of an uphill journey filled with long hours and countless sacrifices. Yet, the longer she stared into the mirror, the more suffocating the image became, as if her reflection wasn't hers anymore but an expectation waiting to consume her.
In the corner of her cramped dorm room, a small study desk overflowed with heavy anatomy textbooks and glossy freshman orientation guides. Amid the chaos, an acceptance letter slipped to the floor, landing with a soft rustle—a quiet reminder of the expectations tied to her name. Sana glanced at it, exhaling softly. The mess of the desk reflected the turmoil in her thoughts. She had always known the road to becoming a doctor would demand relentless effort and countless sacrifices. But tonight, the heaviness pressing on her chest wasn't about her studies. It was the growing fear that her dreams weren't really hers to begin with.
"Why do you always have to live up to their expectations?"
Sana flinched. The voice, quiet but tinged with defiance, broke through her spiraling thoughts. She turned to see Kevin leaning casually against the doorway, his dark leather jacket catching the dim glow of the room's light. He exuded a rebellious energy, his faint, almost teasing smile drawing attention in a way that felt both intriguing and unsettling.
"What am I not?" Sana asked quietly, trying to conceal her surprise. Her voice wavered slightly, but she stood her ground.
Kevin leaned against the doorframe, his expression calm, his eyes sharp as if seeing through her in ways she didn't fully understand. "You're so busy trying to be what everyone expects," he said, his voice calm yet piercing. "The perfect med student. The dutiful daughter. The flawless future doctor. But is that really you? Or is it just the version of you they've decided on?"
The words struck like arrows, hitting their mark. Sana averted her gaze to the mirror, but her reflection no longer offered comfort. Kevin's words echoed in her mind, intertwining with other voices—her parents', her high school teachers', even her own conflicting inner monologue.
"What do I even want?" she whispered, the question barely audible, directed more at the mirror than at Kevin.
"Exactly," Kevin said, stepping closer, his tone steady but inviting. "You've been living for everyone else—your parents, your teachers, your future patients. But when will you start living for yourself?"
She met his gaze, her own sharper now. She knew what her family wanted—a medical degree, stability, a bright future paved for her since childhood, following in her father's footsteps. But she also knew what she longed for: freedom, the courage to choose without constantly worrying about expectations.
"I want more than this," Sana declared with newfound resolve. Her voice trembled, but determination laced her words. "I want to live my life. I want... freedom."
Kevin smiled, this time softer, more personal. He stepped closer, now only a few strides away. "Come with me, and I'll show you what real freedom feels like."
Sana's gaze lingered on Kevin. The atmosphere in the room shifted, a hushed silence broken only by the faint breeze slipping through the window. The tension underscored the conflict brewing—not just between her and Kevin, but within herself, against the expectations weighing her down.
From that moment, a change began to stir in Sana, like a creeping shadow enveloping every corner of her life. She started skipping classes, letting assignments pile up unattended, a stark contrast to her once-diligent self. Each morning, she chose to stay in the dorm, avoiding the bustle of campus life that had once been her world—a place of ambition and hope. Now, that world felt alien, even painful.
Her nights were often spent in solitude, consumed by the turmoil within. Pills and bottles of alcohol, once a fleeting escape, became constant companions—the only way to quiet the storm inside her. But the relief was fleeting, like mist that vanished with the morning light, leaving behind an even deeper void.
Meanwhile, her friends began noticing her absence. Those who had once shared laughter and worries over coffee or in the library could only wonder. Amid incomplete group discussions and laughter tinged with unease, they exchanged glances—where was Sana? What had happened to the vibrant, spirited friend they used to know?
The library, once a hub of camaraderie, now felt empty without Sana. At their usual table, notes lay untouched, assignments once tackled together now completed in silence. The space, once alive with their collective energy, became a void marked by confusion and loss.
One by one, her friends began to sense something was wrong, something deeply unsettling. But how do you help someone who is slowly disappearing into themselves? They knew there was a story behind her change, but no one knew where to begin. Their hope was simple—to bring their friend back before it was too late.
Professors who once noted Sana's enthusiastic participation in class now questioned her absence, receiving the same vague answers each time. The girl who had once been a bright presence in their lectures had faded into a faint memory. Perhaps, they thought, she was merely exhausted or needed some time for herself. Yet, as her absence grew more pronounced, her presence became a lingering absence—a gap impossible to ignore.
Sana, once filled with hope and dreams, now slowly drifted away—not just from her class but also from the world she once knew. Her friends felt the loss, but none of them truly knew how to reach her. In their silence, prayers were whispered, small hopes that Sana would find her way back. However, they all realized—the path, for Sana, seemed increasingly difficult to find.