I’m sitting by the window, just outside our room in the boarding house.
It’s late—10:15 in the evening to be exact—and I’ve just finished my schoolwork.
A gentle breeze brushes against my face, its cool touch momentarily soothing my tired eyes.
Instinctively, I glance outside.
The road is still alive with activity despite the late hour. It surprises me how the world outside doesn’t seem to rest.
Cars zoom past, their headlights cutting through the night, while a few people hurry along the sidewalks.
Among them, I notice three boys lingering by the street corner.
They’re walking around aimlessly, talking in low voices, but something about their presence makes me uneasy.
One of them glances in my direction, locking eyes with me for a second too long.
I feel a shiver down my spine and quickly pull back from the window, pressing my back against the wall.
My heart races, my mind running wild with what-ifs.
What if they’re bad people?
The thought swirls around me.
What if they decide to throw something up here or worse, try to come in?
For a moment, I stay hidden, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
The minutes tick by, and the only sound in the room is the soft hum of distant traffic and my own breathing.
After what feels like forever, I muster the courage to peek out again. I cautiously lift myself up, just enough to sneak a glance out the window.
Thankfully, they haven’t noticed me anymore.
Instead, they seem like students—probably from PMI—just hanging out, laughing among themselves, completely unaware of the anxiety they’d sparked in me.
With a sigh, I lean back against the window frame, my gaze drifting upwards.
The night sky is a blanket of dark velvet, dotted with tiny stars.
I wonder if it’s the same sky my family sees at home. My thoughts turn to my mother, and a deep ache swells in my chest.
I miss her—so much that it hurts. I miss the sound of her voice, the warmth of her embrace.
I miss everything about home.
It’s strange how, even though I’m surrounded by people here, the loneliness feels louder at night.
The constant buzz of the city only amplifies the quiet longing in my heart.
All I want, more than anything, is to go home.
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POV
Non-FictionLife often presents itself as a series of hurdles, each one taller than the last. These hurdles, though daunting, are not meant to break us but to shape us into who we are meant to be. It is through our darkest nights that we gain the strength to fa...
