Chapter 1
" ___Whispers of the Forgotten___"
Year 2025
'A dream, or was it? A shadow of the past, a memory twisted by time, and yet, every detail felt as sharp as the day it was born. In the darkness, our hands never touched, our voices never met, but still... the longing was there, like a wound that refused to heal. Was it love, or simply a dream that refused to fade? I didn't know anymore. The world kept turning, and I, caught in the space between two hearts, waited—endlessly, hopelessly—for something that might never come.'
'Is this love, or am I just holding onto the past?'
I whispered into the night, my voice trembling. The silence that followed was thick, heavy, as if the very air was listening.
'What if I never see him again? What if this—us—is just a story that was never meant to be written?'
The thought stung, but I quickly shook it off. 'No... I can't think that. I can't let go. But why does it feel like I'm slipping away from everything I thought I knew?'
I closed my eyes, imagining his face, but all that came was a blurry image—just out of reach, fading like a dream. I could almost feel the warmth of his presence, the soft closeness that seemed to hold me, as if his arms had been there, if only for a moment. It was a whisper of a feeling, fleeting and fragile, like a flower I couldn't remember, yet knew was real, hidden somewhere in the echoes of my heart.
It was Snow. His name echoed in my mind like a forgotten melody. 'What happened?' he had asked, his voice soft but filled with concern.
A sound lingered in my mind, or maybe it was real—the faint creak of steps outside, leading up to the roof. With a deep breath, I followed, my feet cold against the night's chill, but the sky above was even colder.
There I stood, on the roof, gazing at the night. My eyes, clouded with unshed tears, looked up at the moon—its silver light casting long shadows across my soul. A painful smile tugged at my lips, but it didn't quite reach my heart. Patience, not hope, was what I wore now.
The moonlight bathed my face, but my thoughts were dark. There was something confusing, a knot in my chest. Was it the love I had left behind, or was it the fear of never reaching it? I didn't know, but the questions spun in my mind, each one pulling me further into the unknown.
I stared at the sky with pain...
And then, as if the universe itself was listening, a single voice broke through the haze.
'I'm here.'
It was him, clearer now, almost tangible. His voice wrapped around me, pulling me closer to the memory of something I once had. Or was it a dream? I didn't know. I could feel it in my bones. His presence. His absence.
'But where are you?' I whispered to the room, the question slipping from my lips like a prayer I never expected to be answered.
I stood there, staring at the sky, my gaze lost in the vast expanse. 'Hey, sky...' I whispered in my thoughts, but not a word escaped my lips. The silence between me and the stars stretched endlessly, heavy with the weight of everything unspoken.
The cold breeze brushed against me, but I didn't feel it. My mind was elsewhere, tangled in confusion, as the moonlight bathed me in a soft glow that only deepened the ache within my heart.
There were no answers up there, only endless space, just like my heart—full of questions, and yet... so empty.
__To this Universe__
Tonight, I might not call upon God—or perhaps I am not speaking to God directly—but to you, dear Universe. To the real one... the night, the skies, the angels.
You once told me that God is not just a being, but a complete identity—an energy that flows through all of us. You are part of that energy, and so am I.
We are made of the same dust. I am a part of you, and you are a part of me.
We are incomplete without one another, yet somehow complete together.
You always told me you were listening, my dear Universe. Truly listening.
Then why? Why, dear Universe, have you not returned to me the part of myself I have longed for?
Not merely an intention, but a part of me—devoted, worshipful, real.
When voices rise to you in pain and purity, shouldn't you—if you're truly listening—turn your attention to them?
Shouldn't you bring me the stardust that was always mine?
Particles of the cosmos that belong to me by essence, by soul.
They are close to you, but to me, they feel lightyears away—trapped in another dimension, another galaxy.
Only God and you know where they rest, hidden... yet truly mine.
So listen to me—both God and the Universe—grant me some access to those stardust particles I ache for.
I am craving what is inherently mine.
If you grant me this, I will be forever thankful.
Your rain... I whispered, as if those words were a prayer meant only for the stars. My voice was soft, lost among the vastness of the night, but each syllable carried the weight of a thousand unspoken hopes.
I closed my eyes, letting the cool wind brush across my face, as if the Universe itself had heard my plea. The silence around me felt deeper now, like a promise—unbroken, though still distant.
'I am waiting,' I thought, my eyes fluttering open again, staring at the endless sky. 'For the return of what is mine.'
The night held me in its embrace, as if acknowledging my words, but offering no immediate answer. Only the sound of the wind and the distant call of the universe to remind me that everything I yearned for was out there—waiting, just beyond the reach of time.
Rain moved slowly towards the bed, her body hollow with exhaustion. The room was dim, quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that made your thoughts louder, sharper, crueler. She dropped onto the mattress, letting it swallow her whole. The sheets were cold, but the fire inside her chest burned too wildly for her to care. She wrapped her arms around herself like a child, pressing her face into the pillow. No sobs. No sound. Just tears—salty, relentless—slipping down her cheeks in silence.
The past wouldn't let go.
Her chest began to tighten, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. She knew this. The onset of a panic attack—the tremble in her fingertips, the ache in her throat, the sensation that she was falling while lying still. She curled further into herself, like that could stop the crushing weight of it all.
And then—
That voice.
His voice.
'Rain…'
Her eyes flew open, her breath hitching. It couldn't be. It shouldn't be.
But it was.
Him.
The voice was warm, familiar, steady—the only thing that didn't feel like it would vanish if she blinked. Her heart raced faster, now not from fear, but from the desperate hope that it was him.
'Why are you crying?'
The voice again—closer now, almost beside her, threaded with concern. 'You're my strong girl, remember? My Moonlight. You don't break like this. Not you.'
She didn't answer. Couldn't. The tears only grew heavier. And yet, in that strangest twist of illusion, she felt it—fingers brushing gently against her face, wiping away her tears. Tender. Reassuring. It made her cry harder.
'Listen to me…' he said again, softer, firmer, like he was trying to anchor her. 'You are not alone. I'm here, Rain. You hear me? I'm right here.'
Her chest quivered. She wanted to scream.
Because that's what hurt the most.
It wasn't real.
His touch—it wasn't real.
His voice—it couldn't be.
And yet it was all she had. And in that moment, it was keeping her alive.
Her trembling hand reached for the empty air in front of her, grasping nothing but shadows. The tears he had 'wiped' away were still there, flowing freely down her face, soaking the pillow beneath her. Her body ached with the truth.
He's not here. He's not here. He's not here.
But he was talking to her.
The illusion was piercing her with something more cruel than silence: hope.
She curled tighter, the illusion of his arms still lingering like warmth that refused to fade. The words repeated in her ears—You're my strong girl… I'm here… listen to me…
Each one a blade.
Each one a lullaby.
Her heart beat against the reality, but her soul clung to the illusion. Because sometimes the lie was softer than the truth.
His thumb traced her cheek again—warm, familiar, a lie. But such a beautiful one. She let herself believe it, just for a moment. That he was there. That she wasn't alone.
Tears still flowed—silently, stubbornly, endlessly—as if her soul was spilling out through her eyes. Her chest no longer rose.
And yet, his voice came again, like a lullaby only she could hear.
'You know it was bound to happen… my Rain.'
Her lips parted, not to speak, but to let go.
One final exhale.
The silence that followed was too complete. Not peaceful. Not loud.
Just… empty.
She had stopped breathing.
But her face still held that faint, broken smile—as if she had died believing he was holding her, whispering her name into the dark.
'Tears were flowing like rivers, unstoppable, yet silent. She lay still—so still she seemed no longer part of the living. Her chest barely rose, breath shallow, escaping her like hope itself. Eyes closed, face turned to the side, lips parted only slightly. And then, a whisper—fragile, aching—
'Where are you...?'
It wasn't a question to the room, nor to herself. It was a plea to the absence that had carved a hollow in her soul. And in that moment, with her body unmoving and her tears soaking the pillow like rain on grave soil, it felt as if time itself paused—waiting to see if someone... anyone... would answer.'
And so, the night exhaled its final breath, cloaking her in stillness. The stars blinked overhead, distant and unfeeling, while her body remained curled on the edge of the bed—silent, unmoving, as if sleep had come not as rest, but surrender. Her tears had dried on her skin, but the ache remained, etched deep within her ribs like an echo. The world outside went on. But inside, everything had stopped. And in that final hush before morning, only one thing lingered—his voice, not real, but unforgettable, whispering: 'You know it was bound to happen, my Rain.'