The next morning, I woke up with an extreme headache. It wasn't just a mild throbbing—it was the kind that creeps into your temples and settles in like it belongs there. The kind that makes you feel like the world is pressing down on your skull with a silent, sinister weight. The kind that made me realize something I didn't want to admit— those three days of peace were nothing more than a fleeting illusion. Like a man who returns from a soul-refreshing vacation only to find himself once again shackled to his desk, bright lights humming above him like a mocking laugh.
She was right beside me when I opened my eyes, sitting quietly and watching me. Her brows furrowed with concern, a soft hand resting on my forehead.
"You didn't sleep well?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"No," I replied. "Head's killing me. Feels like somebody knocked me out with a hammer last night."
She didn't say much, but I could see the worry in her eyes. She was always like that—gentle, intuitive, and genuinely caring. Watching her move around the room, trying to make me feel better, part of me ached with guilt for all the unspoken doubts I had let grow in my mind. She didn't deserve them.
My head throbbed painfully, and while my wife looked genuinely worried for me, my own mind was tangled in a different kind of concern—something deeper, something unsettling. It wasn't the old man this time, but the young guy next door. The way he grinned yesterday while pulling that woman inside—was it aimed at me? Or at my wife? I couldn't tell, but the image kept replaying in my head like a warning. There was an unease crawling under my skin, a tension I couldn't quite put into words. It felt almost like a glimpse into a twisted version of my own future. I don't know why, but I have this strange feeling—I need to be wary of him.
There were no painkillers at home, so I decided to walk to the nearby medical shop. I expected the worst—this neighborhood had taught me to. Arrogance, shamelessness, or just unsettling silence seemed to be the common male language here. But when I stepped into the medical shop, I was caught off guard.
The man behind the counter looked to be around my age. Clean-shaven, well-groomed, his shirt tucked neatly, sleeves rolled just right. He looked up with a polite smile.
"Good morning, Sir. What can I get for you?"
His tone was warm—no trace of arrogance or fake politeness. I asked for something for my headache, and he immediately handed me a strip of tablets, even offering a glass of water with a kind nod.
"You've moved into the locality recently?" he asked, casually.
"Yes, almost two weeks ago."
"How are you finding it here?" he continued, genuinely interested.
"It's… different," I said, choosing my words carefully.
He laughed lightly. "Yes, people around here are... weird."
There was something calming about him. Like he didn't belong in this neighborhood either, but had somehow adapted to it. We ended up chatting for a few minutes—small talk about the power cuts, the inconsistent water supply, and how the rains ruined the roads every monsoon. I told him my name.
"Ray," he said, shaking my hand. "Nice to meet someone normal around here."
Before leaving, I impulsively invited him over.
"You should stop by sometime. My wife makes great coffee."
He hesitated, probably not used to people being friendly either. But after a pause, he smiled and said, "Alright. Not today. But maybe tomorrow. I work till late."
"Perfect," I said. "Come by when you're free. It'll be good to talk to someone."
I walked back home with the medicine in hand, and something else—relief. It felt good to meet someone decent. For the first time, I didn't feel like I was alone in this strange place. Maybe I'd been too cynical, too guarded. Not everyone here was bad.
When I returned home, I found her at the door, drying her hands on a kitchen towel, face glowing from the warm light spilling in from the balcony. Her smile—the kind that reaches the eyes—made me feel foolish for all the doubts I had harbored days ago. How could I ever question her?
She took the medicine from my hand and led me to the couch. As I sat down and leaned back, I told her about Ray, and how normal he seemed. She listened, curious but pleased. "That's nice," she said, placing a glass of water on the table beside me. "You could use a friend around here."
I smiled and nodded, letting the tablet melt down my throat.
But even as I closed my eyes for a moment of peace, a quiet voice inside me whispered a warning I chose to ignore.
Peace, in this place....
....never lasts long.