...       "Every day I feel empty, there is something inside me that is still alone among these millions of people.“...

The sound of a car horn keeps disturbing me. I put my hands over my ears it's become a habit to do this. I hate noises. I lived in a small town where hardly any noise was heard. In this city, this horn keeps bursting in my ears every day. It never stops. It hurts my ears, my mood everything. What I hate even more is this office where I work. The head taunts me every day about my reports, my work, or even my project ideas!

The only thing I had in this bright city was my boyfriend. We dated for almost four years. Yesterday with half-sad he broke up with me for a girl from his office.

“Aria, The Things between us didn’t goes good as well I thought”

He paused, a text popped up on his phone screen,  my eyes fixed on his phone, he noticed it he change the phone direction

“ Cough—cough, well, I want to separate with you”

Finally he spoked,

I sipped the chai , it was warm shawallo down all in one sipped, 

If you’re done,You can go, now”

He grabbed his phone and went away from the cafe.

He was talking with someone in his phone - I watched it through the window..

We work in different offices... we usually met on special occasions or once every 2 or 3 months. He was always staring at his mobile phone. Somehow, I already knew he had someone else, but I kept silent. I never asked, "Who is she?" or "Why did you cheat on me?"

Is it really important or necessary to ask someone why they didn’t love you? It feels like begging for love. I'm not a beggar— and I never want to become one of them!

"Do this again," the head ordered me.

Working in the private sector felt like being a servant—they just replaced the word with "employee." They treat you like a servant. Work here: 8 hours a day / monthly salary: 35k... it's all bullshit.

The reality is different. We have to work 12 hours at the office, and at home, we prepare presentations. All 24 hours go to the office.

I'm not against hard work... but what really hurts me is how the head treats me like his servant. He never encourages my work. Whatever I do, whatever I've done—he always curses me. It’s like I’m the only one he targets!

I stared at the computer, typing words I didn’t even understand.

A text popped up on my phone: “Come, let’s party tonight!” It was from Sarah

She’s a cheerful girl—unlike me, who always prefers silence. I don’t know how to talk to people. I don’t know how to act normal or laugh at silly things.

"Okay," I replied to her.

It was an employee group where everyone could chat. I noticed a couple from my office—they acted like they were the last couple left on Earth. Their texts were like: "Aniya, are you coming?" and she replied, "No, me and Anurag are going out together... so sorry."

Like, no one asked why she wasn’t coming. Just say yes or no—but no, she had to show off in front of all the employees.

It’s not like I hate her... but maybe I felt jealous. Maybe that’s what made me angry. But I don’t even know how to be angry—like, why? Why does someone else’s happiness make me angry? Why do I want to snatch their happiness... their wide smiles?

Slowly, I’m becoming the villain of the story. The one who hates others’ happiness... just because he has none.

I’m that villain.

I sat on the train, heading back to that empty, silent apartment—where no one is waiting for me, no one to cheer me up.

I always wonder: is it my fault that I’m not happy, or is there really no one who can make me feel happy?

And the answer always comes to my mind: “Your fault.”

And yes, maybe it is.

I never enjoyed being in crowds—not because I didn’t want to, but because they made me uncomfortable. They made me... silent. And slowly, I became silent even in my alone time. Silent around my family... around my boyfriend.

Maybe that’s why he left me.

I opened my apartment door—the silence pressed against my chest.

I walked to the balcony, where the city buzzed with traffic. It all looked so loud… so distant. No one cares about anyone here. No one comes to your place to take away your loneliness, to pat your shoulder and say, “You did well today,” or “You need a break,” or “You should eat something,” or “You need to sleep properly.”

These little things—they’re what make humans happy. That’s what couples usually do for each other.

But I don’t have anyone who cares for me like that…

No one to hold my hand,

to wipe my tears,

to erase my pain.

The only one I had was me, myself! I tried to sleep, but my eyes kept staring at the ceiling, where there was nothing—only white paint.

I grabbed the blanket, put it on myself, and closed my eyes softly.

Wishing this could end soon—this loneliness, the silence, everything I had...

I want happiness, or someone who would hold my hand forever.

The suffering from sleeplessness is worse than anything. It depresses you, breaks you. I try hard to sleep, but it never comes early. It's 12 a.m., and I'm still awake. My eyes are closed, but my mind keeps running. I truly try to stop it, but... it never stops quickly. It takes time, slowly consumes me, and then finally gives me sleep—like I'm fighting for sleep with myself, with the other part of me that wants to stay awake or alert.

I've observed one thing in my entire life: if you're happy, sleep comes easily. But when you're tense... it avoids you. I don't know why I'm so tense. I don't even remember anything that really matters to me, but still, I fight for my 8 hours of sleep... and I only get 5.

Waking up before the sun rises is hard for most people, but my eyes open automatically—without dragging myself out of bed. It's become a habit now, or maybe I just like waking up early.

I make breakfast just for myself—one plate on a dining table meant for two. The seat in front of me stays empty. I look at that chair while finishing my breakfast.

Eating an omelet I bought from the grocery store... living alone is a burden heavier than living with someone else. You have to do everything by yourself. You can't order anyone around—no “do this” or “do that.” You have to stand for yourself. No dependency... no chaos.

Sometimes, I wish I could fight with someone—from the heart. I wish I could smile with someone, genuinely, from the heart. There's a kind of love in those little fights... but I've never felt that. Maybe nature never wanted me to feel it.

I'm at the metro station. Everyone's busy on their phones, chatting with their partners. A boy in front of me keeps gazing at me... What does he want from me? Do I look beautiful to him? Does he desire me? Or is he just daydreaming... like other men do?

Normal men don't stare like that. They can't do such a cheap thing. If they admire you, they do it from the heart. But finding true love... feels harder than reaching Mars.

I looked away, toward the window... the tall buildings, the chaos of the city. My eyes felt empty, like I had lost everything.

When I reached the office, everyone was clapping.I looked at everyone, pretending to smile, trying to understand what was happening... but I was clueless. "What happened?" I asked Sarah. She was smiling and dancing.

"Ohh, Mr. Rajveer is getting married!" she laughed.

Maybe it's happiness for them—for all the employees—but for me, I was shocked. I thought he liked me. He was never harsh with me, always gave advice, understood me, even invited me to his birthday party. But I guess he did all that just because I work under him.

I wasn't made for love... no one can love me. I smiled back and started clapping like I was happy—but I never was.

It's not like I loved him, or that I wanted to date or stay with him. But the thought that he might like me... that was beautiful. Even if it wasn't real, it gave me confidence. It made me feel that someone, at least someone, liked me—that I wasn't an unlikeable person.

But all those feelings disappeared in a second. He's going to marry someone from our department. I never even knew he had a girlfriend in the office. He's tall, handsome... but still, how could I have believed...?

Anyway, I have to accept it. No one will ever love me. And maybe... beauty really doesn't matter.Or maybe... if beauty truly matters, then I was never the beautiful one. Maybe people only fall for those who wear their hearts on their sleeves, who smile louder, love openly, cry without shame. But me? I kept everything inside—quiet, hidden. Maybe that's why no one chose me.

In my hand was the invitation card for Rajveer's wedding. Of course, I didn't want to go. But I had to—for the company, for work, so no one would doubt me or ask, "Why didn't you come?"

It's hard to keep making excuses. People even question the simplest things. They like to ask everything... Why are they so interested in other people's lives?

Maybe because that's their source of happiness—seeing someone struggle to fake a smile, watching them lie with a made-up excuse. They enjoy it, deep down. I get it now.

At the restaurant, everyone was smiling. Sarah was sitting beside me, eating biryani with her hands. She's really an extrovert—she doesn't care what other people think of her. She just does whatever she wants.

But me? I stay silent. I keep everything inside. Why is it so hard for me to express my own emotions... my own feelings? Why do I let people talk behind my back? Why do I never fight for what's mine? Why do I overthink even the smallest things—even the tiniest decisions?

I remember once, my mother told me, "Don't speak before you think." Maybe I took that too personally... and over time, I made it part of my personality. Slowly, I became the silent girl. The one who always stays quiet. Who never talks loudly—not in school, not in college, not even at work.

"Aria, are you dating someone?"

The girl asked casually. I didn't even know her name, but everyone else called her Shraddha. It took me a moment to respond. I wasn't sure what to say.

Should I tell her, "I had someone, but we broke up"? Or just say, "No, I don't have anyone"?

That's what normal people would say. But me?

I simply replied, "No," in a low voice—so soft she could barely hear it.

Still, she seemed to understand... not through my words, but through the way I looked when I said it.

Then she went back to talking with her group. Yeah... they all had their own little circles—four or five people—laughing, sharing everything.

But I didn't have a group. No one ever made me a part of theirs.

Maybe because I stay silent.

Yes... if you don't talk much, people assume you're boring. Or that you just don't want to be included.

But they don't really understand...

That you do want to be part of something. You just don't know how.

I honestly don't know what to talk about. What topic is right? Politics? Music? Movies?

But even then, my opinions are different. My political thoughts don't match theirs. My taste in music is unusual. Even the movies I watch belong to a different genre.

There's no one whose personality matches mine. And maybe that's why... I always end up alone.

They all finished their dinner. One by one, they stood up, laughing, chatting, getting ready to leave. Then they all looked at me.

It was my turn to pay the bill.

I quietly opened my purse, took out the money...

And as I did, they all walked outside—without even waiting.

No thank you. No smile. Just gone.

I handed over the amount.

I greeted the owner of the restaurant with a small smile as I handed him the money. He nodded kindly—maybe the only person who noticed me tonight.

For a second, I stood there, watching the empty chairs, the leftover plates, the laughter fading outside.

Then I slowly turned and walked out to join them... even though it already felt like I wasn't really part of them.

"Aria, sorry... my car is full," Sarah said, almost sounding disappointed.

They were all already seated—Sarah in the driver's seat, Shraddha beside her, and the other three packed into the back.

"It's okay. I'll take the bus," I replied, trying to smile.

Without another word, Sarah started the car and drove off. I stood there... alone.

The sky was dark, scattered with stars that felt like they were watching me quietly. I took a deep breath, holding my bag tightly in one hand—not sure if it was to control my emotions or to stop myself from falling apart.

I waited... under the silent sky, pretending I was okay.​

Another moment I sat alone in the bus. Outside, the lights flickered. The street slowly became silent, or maybe it whispered something I could hear. I opened my phone... on my playlist, I listened to my favorite songs-old, but quiet enough to express my inner feelings, enough to heal me.

I walked up the stairs of my apartment. It was the 5th floor, and the lift was broken. I was again standing in front of my lifeless apartment. Keys in my hand, but I didn't want to enter... I didn't want to go inside. The fear... the loneliness captured me. The voice of silence gave me ghostly sounds. I was afraid of myself... my own company.

Is it really me? Or is someone else inside my body? The weird thought comes every day in my life. I usually feel like I'm in a prison... but I was free. Then why did I feel so alone... in the crowd... everywhere I go?

I opened the door unwillingly, stepped my left foot inside, then the right. I stood at the door without locking it, scanning the whole hall-the couch, the pillow, the window. I didn't have any fancy woodwork or furniture, just the necessary things I had bought.

I sighed, walked in, threw my bag on the bed, and entered the bathroom. I undressed myself, stood in front of the mirror, looking at myself naked-the untouched, the broken one.

I took a shower. The water falling on my body felt like it was healing my unseen wounds.

I dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, then sat on the couch. The TV was on-first the news, then shows, then sports, then movies. In one movie, a man grabbed a girl's waist-one hand on her waist, the other in her hair. He kissed her gently.

I changed the channel without any expression. Again news... again shows... again sports. I repeated it several times.

A day passed without any excitement, without any good memories. What is my life, actually? A thing of nothingness? Or am I just breathing... surviving?

I want excitement. I want someone to hear the scream inside me. But no one is here. No one has time to listen to me. Or is there anyone?

Everyone lives their life peacefully... except someone like me.

Sometimes I wish the world would end, like it happens in movies... a zombie attack or an alien invasion. I want to disappear with everyone-at once. If that happens, maybe the regrets would be fewer. If the world ends, there's no point in living in it, no desire for survival. No regrets if death comes... we'd simply accept our fate.

I was missing my mom. She used to comb my hair, dress me... she always called me "princess."

Was I?

I chuckled, "Every girl is a princess to their mother."

Nothing special. But at that time, I thought I was special.

I don't know why, but I used to feel like I was different from others.

Now, I'm just trying to become like them... adjusting myself to fit their definition of a human.

If you don't fit in with them-the crowd-they throw you away like a tissue.

It's better to adjust.

Go clubbing, have dinner with friends, get a boyfriend, get married, have a child...

And even then, there's no 100% guarantee they'll accept you.

But at least... you have to try.

Mom called me. I didn't answer. She calls me every night at 9 p.m. I'm just tired of it.

She called again. The phone's ringtone echoed through the hall.

"Hmm," I replied in a low tone.

"Had dinner?" she asked carefully.

She asks this question every day, and I reply the same way:

"Yes... finished."

"How was your day?"

She just wants to hear my voice-and me too, in a way. It's our way of telling each other:

Yes, Mom. I'm fine. Nothing happened. No need to worry.

"Are you coming home?" she asked-the important question.

It's the weekend. An office holiday.

"Yes... Mom, I'm coming."

I sighed and replied again in a low tone-like there was no excitement at all in coming back home or seeing her.

What's the point of going back home?

I live the same here... and there. Nothing really changes.

Just seeing my father working hard in his farming business.

Mother doing household chores, making mango pickle, snacks for me and my brother.

We sit on the floor, eating our meals... silently.

That's what has happened my whole life-all 25 years of it.

Every holiday, it's the same.

Seven days pass like that...

And my brother?

He irritates me... like always.

I really don't want to go home and do this repetitive stuff. I'm tired of it.Now, please... just shut it down.

In the morning, I started packing my clothes. I already have clothes at home, but I still packed a few-just for the day. Mom usually buys clothes for me. I know how it goes: I go there with one small bag, and return with four more, along with my original one. So, overall, I bring back five bags from home.

Mother's love... you could say that.

I came down and walked through the street with my head down, quickly. I caught my bus, then the train. Sitting silently on my seat, I waited for my station.

My hometown is far from the city-it takes six hours to reach, and then another bus to get to my village. Very few people live there now. Every year, more people leave their homes behind and settle into city life.

But I find peace there. At least there are no honking horns...

Instead, you hear birds chirping-but that doesn't count as noise. Their singing relaxes your mind. It feels like they're with you... encouraging you, whatever you're doing.

Whether you're brushing your teeth... eating a mango... or sitting alone on a stone bench.

Time passed silently without any noise. When I live in my hometown, it's hard to pass the time, but in the city... you don't have time to talk to yourself. But in the village... time feels infinite, or like time doesn't exist there.

Time is only created by city guys-doing this in that time duration, this on that day... but in the village, they do things when they want.

​My station came. I stepped out of the train. The whole train seat was empty... only I was sitting there, my head down like always. I walked ahead and sat on a bench, waiting for the bus. Only one bus goes to my village, and it was scheduled for 4 p.m. Now it was 3:57.

The bus horn sounded. I got on and took a seat. The whole bus was empty except for two people. One guy was also sitting on the bus, but I had never seen him before. He was silent, wearing a plain white shirt, holding a black bag. Looked like an office guy.

Who is he?-the question kept roaming in my head.

He sat behind me-at the very back of the bus-and I was in the middle. Now there were only three people inside: the driver, me, and him.