chapter 22: echoes of forgotten pain
the dawn was pale and fragile, filtering through the thin curtains of maya's small home. ren lay awake, staring at the cracked ceiling, tangled in the unrest of his mind. the silence around him felt heavy, pressing down like a weight he couldn't shake.
his thoughts circled endlessly — pieces of a life lost, broken fragments of memories he couldn't reach. every failed attempt to grasp them left a sting deeper than before. pride whispered he should push harder, but doubt crept beneath the surface, tainting his resolve.
"you're trying too hard," maya's voice broke through the quiet. she sat cross-legged nearby, watching him with those steady eyes that saw through his walls. "sometimes the past won't come when you demand it."
ren turned his head, voice rough, "then what? wait? pretend it didn't happen? i can't afford that."
"no one asks you to pretend," she said softly, "but forcing yourself only makes the cracks worse. you have to accept the broken parts. that's how healing starts."
his chest tightened. accept brokenness? the word tasted like defeat.
"why do you care?" ren snapped, the pride flaring sharper than before.
maya didn't flinch. "because i've been broken too. and maybe because you remind me that even shattered things can still shine."
ren closed his eyes, the words sinking in deeper than he expected. for a fleeting moment, the madness inside him paused, replaced by a fragile hope.
"then how do i get stronger without losing myself?" he asked, voice barely a whisper.
"you don't lose yourself," maya replied. "you learn to live with the pieces. and sometimes, those pieces can be your greatest strength."
outside, the wind whispered through the trees — an echo of forgotten pain, and the promise of something new.