WHERE HE REMAINS

1

"This is it , I suppose" , I mumbled to myself , looking up at the foggy winter sky. It wore a gloomy gray expression with scattered clouds drifting aimlessly.

From the very first day we met, a part of me sensed what was coming. It was as if I had always known, lurking in the back of my mind, that this moment would arrive. Yet, no matter how much I foresaw it, I never wished for it to become reality. It was like watching a movie where you already know the ending will never be happy, yet you find yourself hoping for a better conclusion each time you watch it.

I always desperately hoped for a happy ending. In the middle of the night, when I couldn't sleep, I would chant, "Please keep us happy together," or sometimes more intimately, "I love him so much; I always want to stay by his side." Gradually, I would smile while thinking about him, and this would continue until I finally fell asleep.

I shifted my gaze from the hopelessly gray sky to my trembling hands. Warmth surged through my body, more than I could bear. Somehow, I had managed to hold back my tears until now, but my eyes felt flooded, and my vision grew blurry with unshed tears. Despite my best efforts, I knew I couldn't hold them back much longer.
"What was I even hoping for?" My lips trembled with the question as I turned away, heading back towards the dormitory. The cold air stung my cheeks, contrasting sharply with the warmth of tears streaming down. Each time I wiped them away with my brown muffler, another wave of tears had already soaked my cheeks anew. I couldn't stem the tide of emotion, and my tears flowed freely until I finally reached the refuge of my dorm room.

I took a quick glance at the clock while lying covered under the warm blanket, squinting my eyes to clear my vision - 2:24 AM. If only I had eaten something, I wouldn't be awake with my aching belly at this hour. I wanted someone to cook me noodles and feed me, like my mother would do. I missed Mumma.
Don't worry, she wasn't dead, and I would never want that to happen. If I could be granted a wish, I would wish for her immortality. I loved her that much. I would always sit by her side, talk to her, or nag her whenever I felt low, never letting her see if I was sad, frustrated, worried, or going through something.
Right now, I was miles away from home, in a dorm near my institute, sent here to prepare for my medical entrance examination. I had the option to call her, but I felt so vulnerable at the moment that I would burst into loud sobs at any point of the time. If she asked why I was crying, I wouldn't be able to answer, because she wouldn't be able to bear the truth-that I was crying for the man I loved. She'd be even more shocked to learn about my feelings for men.

I was very close to her, like a school best friend. We shared everything, chatting without a moment of hesitation. Our honesty with each other was unwavering. Yet, there was one part of my life I had always failed to share with her. Despite dropping hints, she never seemed to catch on.
Sometimes, I weaved stories about two men in love, facing society's harsh criticism. Then, I'd casually ask her opinion. She would always reply, "That's cruel. Why don't people let them live how they want?" But when I pushed further, asking, "What if your child was one of them?" she paused for a long time before eventually saying, "It might take me forever to accept the reality of my child then."

So, it's better for me to endure these tormenting feelings alone, with my stomach growling in protest. I glanced around the room-it was a total mess. The room heater, placed a bit away on the shelf, kept me warm. "Who needs a man when you have a heater to keep you warm and a blanket to cuddle?" I muttered to myself, turning my face away from the heater.

Nevertheless , One cannot escape the truth; it will chase you relentlessly until you face it. As humans, we are perpetually in search of warmth, touch, and love-those intangible elements that define our existence. We long for someone who brings us a bouquet to brighten our days, who holds our hand tightly in a crowded metro, looking deep into our eyes, seeing past the surface to our very soul. We wish for someone to make us feel significant, someone to show us the true essence of love.

Do we ever truly find that "someone"? For some, the answer is a resounding yes. They discover their person, their anchor in the storm of life. Others remain on a lifelong quest, driven by hope and dreams. And then, there are those like me, who once found that someone but lost them along the way.