The ride back home was quiet.
I sat beside John, my head resting gently against the window. The sun had long set, and the sky was slowly being painted with stars. Even though the day had been calm, my heart still felt heavy—as if something had followed me back from the company… something invisible but cold.
When we got home, John helped me into the house like always, treating me as if I'd shatter if he let go. I smiled faintly, nodded my thanks, and told him I was tired.
He didn't press. He simply placed his palm on my head and said, "Rest, baby. I'll be in the study if you need me."
I changed into something light and slipped into bed. The blanket was soft, but I didn't feel comforted. I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep.
And that's when the voice returned.
"You remember that day… don't you?" the voice whispered softly, its tone not accusing, but sorrowful. "The day everything around you cracked again."
Suddenly, I was no longer lying in bed. I stood in the middle of a familiar classroom—cold and echoing. Loud voices filled the room.
"You're too much!"
"You only think about yourself!"
"Just stay away from me!"
I turned and saw their faces—my old friends, once so close to me, now looking at me like a stranger. They were angry. Hurt. So was I.
I remembered how my hands trembled at my sides. I hadn't even defended myself that day. I just stood there.
John had been there too.
He had walked in and tried to calm us down. "Can everyone please stop shouting? Just talk it out."
But I never turned to him.
I was drowning in too much pain, too many words unsaid. I couldn't look at anyone. Not even him.
The dream shifted again.
I sat alone in the back of the class, resting my head on the desk. Laughter echoed around me—but none of it was mine. I'd pushed everyone away by then.
"You didn't have to ignore him," the voice said gently in the background. "He was trying to help. But your pain made you blind… made you shut the door too quickly."
I squeezed my eyes shut in the dream, as if that would shut everything out. But the voice kept speaking—soft, calm, but piercing.
"You were hurting. But they were hurting too. And in your silence, you left them bleeding."
I saw the moment again. My friend crying. Another one slamming her bag against her desk before walking out. And me… I just sat there.
Still. Emotionless. Frozen.
Tears slid down my cheeks in real life. My body shifted under the blanket, curling up into a ball. I didn't wake. I was stuck in the memory.
Then I heard a chair move—real, not in the dream.
John must have returned to check on me. I felt the weight beside me, his hand resting gently over mine.
Even half-asleep, I could feel his warmth. He didn't speak. He just stayed beside me.
And for the first time that night, the voice in my dream said nothing more. It simply echoed one last thing before fading:
"Pain doesn't vanish when you bury it. It waits… until it's heard."