The air around me echoes with the delicate, melodious chirping of tiny birds. A cool breeze brushes against my weary soul—offering, if only briefly, a fleeting sense of peace. And this radiant sun—nothing more than a projection, really—somehow softens the weight of my solitude.
People nearby are soaking in the beauty of this seemingly natural landscape. Smiling faces, gentle laughter… it all resembles a scene painted to soothe the heart. And what about me? I don't know why, but I feel like a blemish on this perfect picture—present among them, yet distinctly apart..
This park lies within Layer 1 of the underground facility. An artificial space—but crafted so meticulously that one would hardly notice the illusion at first glance. A synthetic sun, a fabricated sky… though perhaps the trees and plants are real. Perhaps.
The benches gleam as if brand new. Cleanliness is meticulously maintained throughout. Near the bench where I sit, a few pigeons flutter about. Thankfully, none of them have disturbingly human-like heads.
On one hand, my mind wrestles with the darkness of suicidal thoughts. On the other, Nyra sits beside me, quietly enjoying a chocolate cone, utterly at ease.. Was she sent here to help with my mental health—or simply to enjoy an ice cream outing?
She remains quietly engrossed in her dessert, as if the world holds no burdens at all. Is she ever going to speak, or is she just going to keep eating like this?
Then, suddenly, Nyra glances at me and asks plainly, "Do you want some?"
"No, you go ahead," I reply, waving her off. Without a word, she returns to her ice cream as though nothing had interrupted her.
Who the hell does that manager think he is? Saying I can't see Anya unless they "trust" me? Who are they to decide what I can or can't do?
And that wasn't even the end of it. He went on to say that my training will begin in a few days. That I'll be prepared for missions. Missions? What am I, a military officer or some kind of superhero?
My life has become a mere kite in their hands. They let it soar at will, and just as easily, they cut its string.
And my friends… the ones who died… What about them? No one even mentions their names. Their bodies weren't recovered. Their families deserved at least that much.
They're all the same. And this girl… she's probably just like them. I can't bring myself to trust anyone anymore.
Sigh… I've become nothing more than a servant to these people. A man who is forced to obey—whether his heart agrees or not.
After enduring a string of bitter experiences, Ayaan had been sent to the park with Nyra, in hopes that he could unwind a little before his training began. His gaze remained fixed on the sky above, yet his mind wandered elsewhere.
Nyra, meanwhile, finished the last bite of her ice cream, pressing her hands to her cheeks with delight. "That was amazing," she said, visibly pleased.
Ayaan's attention, however, was still lost in the artificial sky, when suddenly a man approached them—a familiar face, someone Ayaan had met before.
"How are you both doing?" the man asked with a warm smile as he came closer.
"Hey, Uncle! You're here?" Nyra's eyes sparkled with recognition.
"You two were sitting here so quietly, I thought I'd come over and say hello," the man said, now standing near the bench.
"Ayaan, son, is everything alright? How are you feeling?" he asked, this time turning to Ayaan.
Ayaan didn't respond. His eyes were still locked on the clouds above, as if he had gotten lost somewhere deep within them.
"Why isn't he saying anything?" the man asked, now turning to Nyra.
Nyra glanced at Ayaan and tried to stifle a laugh. "He's just a little insane right now," she joked, then affectionately pinched his arm.
"Ouch!" Ayaan flinched. "Are you crazy?" he snapped, annoyed.
"Someone came to see you—at least have the decency to talk to them!" Nyra said stubbornly.
That snapped Ayaan out of it. His eyes shifted toward the man, and in an instant, recognition and a smile returned to his face.
"Oh! Uncle… you're the samosa uncle, right?" Ayaan's face lit up with genuine warmth.
"Sorry, I didn't recognize you at first," Ayaan said.
"No worries, son," the man replied kindly. "You seem… really worn out."
At those words, a hint of sadness crossed Ayaan's face. He lowered his head. "Yeah… it's just…"
A moment of silence settled between them. Then, suddenly, Nyra jabbed him again.
"Ow! What now?" Ayaan snapped, recoiling from the pinch.
"You talk like that—with that gloomy tone—and it's depressing. It's not necessary to keep revisiting the past. Try letting go, just once."
At that, Ayaan's expression darkened. His eyes flared with rising anger.
"Let go?" he murmured, before repeating it louder—his voice sharp. "Let go?! You really think I can just forget both my friends' deaths? Those experiments? That pain? You think it's that easy?"
"No! That's not what I meant…" Nyra said quickly, clearly shaken.
"Whatever you meant doesn't matter. You're just like the rest of them. Pretending to care, but really, you don't give a damn!" Ayaan's voice rose with fury. "You're a liar—just like all of them!"
His words hit Nyra like a dagger. Her eyes welled with tears as her fists clenched tight.
"Fine! Do whatever you want, alone! I don't even want to see your face anymore!"
With that, Nyra stood from the bench and stormed off in anger.
"Nyra, wait—please, listen!" the uncle tried to stop her, but she walked away without even glancing back.
Ayaan's breath quickened, his chest heaving. His eyes, now filled with guilt, drifted to the ground.
"What was that, son?" the uncle asked softly. "That poor girl was only trying to care for you… and you lashed out at her like that?"
"No, Uncle… but she should've thought before saying something like that…"
The uncle's tone grew gentler. "Son, she's only eleven. All she wanted was for you not to stay trapped in that same pain—again and again."
Hearing those words, Ayaan's anger slowly began to melt. The hardness in his expression softened.
"Go on, son," the man said gently. "Talk to her calmly. Apologize. It'll make her feel better."
"Sorry, Uncle… you're right. I let my anger get the better of me," Ayaan admitted, his voice quieter now.
"Well, at least you recognize your mistake," the man replied with a warm smile. Then, reaching into his pocket, he pulled something out—
A chocolate bar.
"Here, take this. Give it to her. Maybe it'll help you earn her forgiveness."
"Oh, chocolate!" Ayaan's lips curved into a small smile as he accepted it. "Thank you, Uncle."
"But Ayaan," the man's tone suddenly grew serious, "there's something important I need to tell you."
The shift in his voice caught Ayaan's attention.
"As soon as your sister regains consciousness… you and she should leave this place. Go somewhere far away."
Ayaan's face turned somber. "Alright, Uncle," he said, bowing his head slightly. "Thank you."
The man gave a faint, knowing smile.
"Oh, and Uncle… one more thing," Ayaan asked, looking up. "What's your real name?"
The man chuckled quietly, trying to hold back a laugh. "My name? You can just call me Mr. Pathak."
"Mr. Pathak?" Ayaan smiled. "Alright then. Bye, Mr. Pathak."
With the chocolate in hand, Ayaan turned and walked away—heading off in search of Nyra.