The Depth of Ocean

Clueless

Two months had slipped by, and still, there was no word from Ricky. Each day felt like an eternity as I searched for answers, for anything that could explain why he had vanished without a trace. I had tried everything—reaching out to mutual friends, combing through old messages, even revisiting the places where we used to chat online—but nothing. The silence was unbearable, a heavy weight pressing on my chest. Night after night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, questioning why this was happening to me. But no answers came, only more questions. I couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that something was terribly wrong with Ricky, that his disappearance was more than just a sudden whim. I was terrified for his well-being. Was he okay? Was he safe? The thought of him suffering somewhere, alone and afraid, haunted me.

People around me didn't understand. They said it was just an online relationship, so why was I so consumed by it? How could something so intangible have such a profound effect on me? But they didn't know Ricky. They didn't know our story.

It all began when I first saw Ricky in a post by Nion, his best friend. There was something about him that drew me in instantly. I noticed we were mutual friends, but I didn't have the courage to reach out. So I let it go, or at least I tried to. Then, out of the blue, Ricky replied to one of my stories. "Your face is cute, like a baby," he wrote. I was caught off guard, but I thanked him, and that was how our conversation started. We talked every day after that, and soon, the conversation turned to more personal topics.

Ricky's life was shrouded in a sadness that I could barely comprehend. He was a deeply depressed person, often sleeping to escape the world, a state induced by the sleeping pills he took. He admitted to using drugs and frequently ended up in the hospital due to his poor health. He didn't have many friends and preferred to keep to himself, a habit born from a past marked by tragedy.

He told me about his fiancée, the person he had loved more than anything in the world. They had grown up together, their families close, and as cousins, they had shared a bond that seemed unbreakable. But fate had other plans. When Ricky was 18 and his fiancée only 16, she died of a heart condition that Ricky hadn't even known about. She had kept it a secret, wanting to spend her final days with him in happiness rather than sorrow. She had begged her family not to tell Ricky about her illness. She only had a month left to live, and she spent every moment of it with him.

One day, as they sat together, she looked at him with eyes full of pain and asked, "What would you do if I died, Ricky?"

Ricky was taken aback. "How dare you ask something like that? Don't say such things," he replied, his voice tinged with worry.

"Just tell me," she insisted, "what would you do if I died?"

"That's not going to happen," Ricky said, trying to push away the fear that was beginning to creep into his mind. "God wouldn't take you away from me because I can't live without you. Don't even think about leaving me."

The month passed, and although Ricky noticed that something wasn't quite right, he remained blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation. Then, one evening, as they were sitting on the sofa, his fiancée suddenly clutched her chest in pain. She knew her time had come. Ricky panicked, calling out for her parents, his heart racing with fear. As she lay against his chest, she spoke, her voice filled with both pain and love. "Ricky, my time is up. When I'm gone, please take care of yourself. When you miss me, look up at the stars. Find someone who will care for you as I did. I'll With tears in her eyes, she whispered, "I won't dare to leave you."

always be with you, like a shadow, even after I'm gone."

Tears streamed down Ricky's face as he held her close. "What are you saying? You'll be okay. Don't talk like that. Nothing's going to happen to you. I lo—" His words were cut off as she took her last breath in his arms, her eyes closing forever.

Ricky's screams echoed through the house as he called out her name, but she didn't respond. Her parents, who had rushed to the room, saw their daughter lying lifeless in Ricky's arms. They had known she was dying, but witnessing it was a pain they weren't prepared for. Meanwhile, Ricky, unable to bear the loss, slipped into unconsciousness, his mind shutting down from the shock. When he finally woke up 12 hours later, he was a different person. He searched frantically for her, desperate to believe that it had all been a nightmare, but reality hit hard when her parents handed him her diary, explaining everything. She had kept her illness a secret, not wanting to burden him with the truth. Ricky took the diary and went to her grave, collapsing beside it as he cried out, "Why did you do this to me?" He stayed there for a day, lost in his grief.

Ricky's parents, fearing for his mental health, decided to move him to another city, hoping the change would help him heal. But how could it? The memories of his fiancée were woven into the very fabric of his being. Before leaving, Ricky gathered all of her belongings—her jewelry, her diary, anything that had once belonged to her—and took them with him. But the move did nothing to ease his pain. He isolated himself in his new home, relying on sleeping pills and drugs to numb the agony that consumed him. He rarely spoke, choosing instead to retreat into a world of silence. His family, growing increasingly worried, tried to intervene, urging him to let go of the past and his destructive habits, but Ricky only pushed them away. He was alone, often sick, and frequently ended up in the hospital. The only person who stayed by his side was Nion, his best friend, who knew where to find him when no one else did. Nion took care of Ricky during his hospital stays, but even his advice fell on deaf ears.

A year passed, and Ricky was still trapped in his sorrow. That's when I came into his life. Our relationship began online, but it quickly became something much more profound. We spent countless hours talking, and slowly, I began to see a change in Ricky. He started to open up, to trust me with the parts of himself that he had kept hidden for so long. Without any pressure from me, he began to transform from a shadow of despair into a person who could laugh and smile again. I didn't push him, but I made sure he knew that I cared, that I was there for him no matter what.

Ricky often showed me the jewelry that had once belonged to his fiancée, treasures he kept close to his heart. He shared her diary with me, letting me read the words she had written during her final days. He told me about his feelings, his fears, his dreams, and I listened without a hint of jealousy. I wanted to be there for him, to help him heal, to be the person he could lean on. Sometimes, he would sing the songs he used to sing for his fiancée, and I would listen with all my heart, knowing that in those moments, he was allowing himself to feel something other than pain. I cared for him deeply, and in return, he began to care for me too.

That's why his sudden disappearance affected me so deeply. I wasn't just losing someone I loved—I was losing someone I had helped to rebuild, someone I had nurtured and cared for. The thought of him slipping back into that darkness, alone and afraid, was more than I could bear.