⚠️ Content Warning: This chapter contains emotional trauma and disturbing imagery. Reader discretion advised.
Noor means light.
Yes, that's the name I was given when I was born, but…
YOU RUINED MY LIFE!YOU SHOULD HAVE NEVER BEEN BORN!
A girl started choking him, with red glowing, fierce eyes filled with hatred, whispering...
I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE ANYMORE!WHY DON'T YOU DIE?JUST DIE…
Gasp…
Noor jolted awake, his breath sharp and ragged.The room was dark, quiet—too quiet. His chest ached like something had clawed its way out from the inside.The dream was already fading, but the fear stayed behind, sitting heavy on his chest like a shadow that refused to leave.He wiped the sweat from his forehead, heart still racing, wondering why the past still followed him into sleep.
"My name is Noor. I am currently 21 years old. Recently, I've been suffering from sleep issues.I closed my eyes for an hour, and those nightmares got me again.Looks like I have to pay a visit to the doctor again."
Suddenly, the alarm clock starts ringing.Noor shuts off the alarm clock and throws it in the dustbin in his room.
"What's the point of owning an alarm clock when I can't sleep anyway, lol."
"Well, first things first, let's make an appointment right away."
He got up from his bed and rolled up the curtains from the windows.As the sunlight hit his face, he covered his eyes.He picked up the phone and made a call.
Turrp…
Turrp…
"Hello, can I help you?"
"Um, I'd like to make an appointment with Doctor Abir Ajad.""Your name, sir?""My name is Noor.""Wait a minute, sir… Your serial number is eight."
"Thank you."
Noor hung up the phone.After getting fresh and making breakfast—which was nothing special, just bread and an omelet—he began murmuring to himself.
"It's been 6 months since I came to Dhaka.But nobody has contacted me or given a sh*t.I work day and night writing and editing other people's novels just because I'm bored.I barely sleep at night, and now those nightmares are eating me alive.I lost my goal in life. I can't remember what it was, or how I used to be.Now I struggle to even breathe. My chest feels tightened, like I'm being choked every second.By the way… who was that girl?"
"Ah sh*t, I'm gonna be late."
Noor got out of his apartment and started walking without paying attention to anything.Suddenly, he came across a boy crying—around 7 years old.
"Hey, what's happened? Why are you crying?"
The boy glanced at Noor and suddenly started screaming:
"Kidnapper! Save me!"
"Wait, what?" Noor was shocked.
The boy's father appeared out of the crowd.
"Hey! What are you doing to my son?"
People stared at them awkwardly.
"No, wait sir, you misunderstood. He was crying—I was just comforting him," Noor replied.
"Huh! You think I'll believe you after looking at that face of yours? You're definitely a kidnapper!"
"Seriously, I look like a kidnapper? What are you, a psycho—just giving a random person a criminal tag?" Noor said.
"But seriously, you look like a kidnapper. Just look at his face, everybody. So ugly!"
"Bit*h please, you're judging me by my looks? What are you, racist?" Noor asked.
"How dare you call me a bit*h! What are you—a thug? I'm not afraid of you! Don't underestimate me—I was a popular chef!"
"What are you gonna do? Throw your kitchen set at me?" Noor said sarcastically.
The man began to throw the brand new ceramic plates he had just bought at Noor.One hit Noor in the face.
"Ouch! You dog, you're really hitting me?! Are you crazy?"
The passersby managed to calm the guy down.Noor began walking away without paying attention.
"People are getting crazier these days. Calling me a criminal and throwing plates at my face—seriously!Maybe I do look like a homeless guy… I haven't cut my hair and beard for several months.But still, how dare he?Ah, this must be the building. Whatever—let's go inside."