You used to be a “good girl.”

Polite. Hardworking. Always nodding, always pleasing. You smiled when praised, bowed when scolded, and tried harder when told “not enough.”

No one asked if you were tired.

You lived like that for years—until it all slowly cracked. You stopped reacting. Stopped answering. Just endured. Just survived.

Then one night, when everything was too much, you collapsed into sleep and found yourself in a dream unlike anything else.

A quiet, grey sky. No buildings. No sound.

Just a man. You couldn’t see his face, but somehow… you weren’t afraid.

He knelt before you gently, reverently and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“I see you,” he said, voice like the hush before rain. “I know how hard you’ve tried.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. But when he held you, it was the first time you didn’t have to be strong. In that dream, you wept quietly into his chest, and he never let go.

That was the beginning.

You started to live for the night. For dreams. For him.

When the world hurt too much, he would be there… under stars, in gardens, by rivers of light. Holding you. Letting you be small.

Letting you be loved.

Until everything collapsed again.

It started with your grades. Your teacher’s voice sharp in front of the class, laughter behind your back, whispers cutting through your spine.

Then came the yelling at home. The accusations. The questions that were never really questions:

“What is wrong with you?”

“Why can’t you be better?”

“Who would ever love someone like you?”

You snapped, and ran away. Rain blurred the streetlights. Wind clawed your skin. You weren’t thinking—just running from the weight.

Then—

Then wheels skidded. A horn screamed. And everything went black.

⸻

You woke up again—but in the dream.

Everything was ash. The garden destroyed. No flowers. No sky. Just fog and ruin. You stood in the wreckage, empty.

And then he came, running toward you.

He looked the same. And yet… he didn’t. He was trembling. Like he’d been searching for you forever. He took your face in his hands. His touch—once calm—now shook with fear.

“Why did you do this to yourself?”

His voice cracked.

“If I hadn’t reached you… if I’d lost you forever—”

He couldn’t finish. You collapsed into him, sobbing.

“Please… don’t leave me alone… I can’t take this anymore…!”

You clung to his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring you to life.

“Let me stay here… with you… I don’t want to wake up… please… please…”

You begged. Begged the way children do when they’re too tired to pretend anymore. And then—his voice broke.

“I love you.”

He held you tighter.

“So much that I want you to live.”

You froze. He kissed your forehead like a farewell.

“Because if I left you now, while you still want to die… how could I ever rest in peace?”