......................

I Wasn’t even home when the world started splitting at the seams. I had been out late, completely detached from reality, caught up in some mundane chore that feels utterly pointless to me now. Then my phone buzzed. It was Anna, my grandmother. Her voice wasn't its usual calm self; it was sharp, panicked, trembling. “Daisy, come home. Your mother is sick.”

In that split second, my survival instinct took over. No thoughts, no tears, just raw movement. I rushed back, grabbed the car keys, helped my mother into the passenger seat, and drove to the hospital. During the drive, my mind was strangely, terrifyingly numb. My hands were steady on the steering wheel. I was perfectly normal, or so I thought. I was the responsible daughter doing exactly what needed to be done.

But reality doesn't hit you when you are running. It hits you when you finally stop.

The doctor handed me her medical reports under the harsh, buzzing fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor. I looked down at the papers, and suddenly, the numbness shattered. The medical jargon blurred together, but the gravity of it hit me like a physical blow. My hands began to shake—so violently that the paper rattled in my grip.

A suffocating wave of panic washed over me. How am I supposed to handle this alone? Who do I turn to when the pillar of my life is breaking? I looked around the sterile, white hallway, and the crushing weight of being completely, utterly on my own threatened to pull me under.

boarded a night bus heading to the other side of the city, just needing the movement to keep from crashing. Leaning my forehead against the cool, vibrating glass of the window, watched the blurry city lights melt into streaks of rain.

And that’s when my mind finally broke its defenses and drifted to him. To Ren.

In the quiet hum of the moving bus, my thoughts didn't stay in the terrifying present. Instead, they took me back to a time when safety didn't feel like a luxury. I closed my eyes and dreamed of our childhood—the endless summer afternoons, the absolute certainty that as long as he was there, nothing could truly go wrong. I remembered the boy who would sit patiently on the porch, letting me force him into a ridiculous sky-blue Argentina jersey just to hear me laugh, even though he hated the team. He was my anchor then, long before life, O-Levels, engineering dreams, and family walls built a distance between us.

...****************...

Sitting alone on that bus, clutching my shaking hands together, I looked out into the dark night and realized the cruelest truth of all: the only person who could calm the storm inside me was the one person I could no longer reach out to.

......................

I was just thinking about how to escape from this situation. How to act normal , how can I stop crying then I started thinking about Ren.

The gentle, continuous vibration of the bus window against my forehead acted like a time machine. As the rainy city streets blurred away, the cold night air melted into the chaotic, electric atmosphere of the winter of 2022. The World Cup season.

The entire neighborhood was painted in green-and-yellow or sky-blue-and-white. Ren, with his quiet stubbornness, was a die-hard Brazil fan. I, on the other hand, lived and breathed Argentina.

That evening, the madness had hit its peak. I had sneaked my brand-new, oversized Argentina jersey into his house. My heart was pounding, not just from excitement, but from pure nerves. Our families were strict—if anyone walked in and caught us doing this, there would be endless questions, whispers, and trouble. The risk was real, but my stubbornness was bigger.

"Put it on, Ren. Just once," I had pleaded, holding up the sky-blue striped jersey.

Ren took a step back, staring at it like it was radioactive. "Are you insane, Daisy? I support Brazil. I am not wearing that. Never."

"You have to!"

"No."

Seeing his flat refusal, my brain went into full chaotic mode. I shoved the jersey into his hands, pushed him backward into the washroom, and slammed the door shut. Before he could turn the knob, I clicked the lock from the outside.

"Daisy! Open the door!" Ren banged on the wood, his voice a panicked whisper. He knew as well as I did how risky this was. "If someone comes upstairs right now, we are both dead. Open it!"

I leaned my back against the locked door, my heart racing against my ribs. I looked left and right down the empty hallway, terrified that a footsteps would echo at any second. Yet, a wicked grin spread across my face.

"I’m not opening it until you put it on!" I whispered back loudly. "Put it on or stay locked in there forever!"

Silence followed. A long, agonizing minute passed. I stood guard outside, holding my breath, jumping at every tiny sound from downstairs. My hands were shaking back then too—but with the thrill of mischief, not the cold dread I felt tonight.

Click.

The lock turned. I stepped back as the door swung open.

Ren walked out, and I swear I had to cover my mouth to stop myself from screaming with laughter. The jersey swallowed him completely, the sleeves dropping past his elbows. He stood there, looking like the most beautifully miserable captive in history. His hair was a bit messy, his cheeks were slightly flushed, and he looked thoroughly defeated by a twelve-year-old’s tantrum.

He crossed his arms, looking down at the sky-blue stripes on his chest, and sighed heavily.

"Ok, fine," he murmured, a reluctant, soft smile breaking through his fake annoyance. His eyes melted as he looked at me beaming with joy. "This time it will be the last. I am never, ever wearing this jersey again. Happy?"

He was terrified of the family finding out, he hated the team, yet he stood there in the middle of the hallway, adjusting the massive sleeves, just because he knew it made me happy. He always let me win.

A sudden bump on the road jerked my head away from the window. The warm hallway from 2022 vanished instantly.

I opened my eyes to the dark, silent night bus. My hands were still shaking on my lap, but this time, it was from the cold weight of reality. I looked down at my phone. No notifications. No texts from him.

A single tear finally slipped down my cheek. Where are you tonight, Ren? I whispered into the empty space. Who is going to lock me away from my storms now?

......................

To be continued.

I'm so into you, I can barely breathe...

A little less conversation and a little more touch my body.

Cause I’m keeping secrets and I’m hoping that you’re keeping theirs too...

Can you feel the pressure take over?”

The muffled bass of Ariana Grande’s Into You drifted from a passing car, the lyrics cutting through the cold night air and echoing in my chest like a physical ache. Can you feel the pressure take over? Yes. It was crushing me.

By the time the night bus reached its final stop, I hadn't moved an inch. The conductor’s harsh shout—“Last stop, everyone out”—snatched me brutally from the safety of my memories and dragged me back into a reality that felt entirely hostile. Stepping off the bus, the first pale light of dawn was beginning to bleed through the heavy rain clouds. The world around me was wrapped in a cold, lifeless silence.

I didn't even know why I had come to this side of the city. The familiar streets felt foreign, as if I were a ghost walking through someone else's life. The ground was solid beneath my feet, yet I felt entirely weightless, suspended over an abyss.

I needed to go back to the hospital. I needed to be there for my mother. But my body refused to move.

Unable to hold the fragments of my composure together any longer, I pulled my phone from my pocket. My fingers were trembling so violently that I almost dropped it. I opened my contacts and began to scroll, though my heart already knew exactly which name it was looking for.

'Ren.'

Seeing those three letters on the screen made the air catch in my throat. It had been years since we last spoke. O-Levels had ended, he had buried himself in his engineering dreams, and the unyielding walls of family pride and distance had grown taller between us. We had let each other drift away. But today, standing in the ruins of my perfect, controlled life, every single wall I had built crumbled into dust.

I pressed the call button.

Holding the phone to my ear, each rhythmic ring sounded like a hammer striking a raw nerve.

Ring... ring... ring...

Please pick up, I screamed silently, though my throat was too tight to produce any sound. Please, Ren. Just answer. Just tell me everything is going to be okay.

Suddenly, the ringing cut off. There was a sharp click, followed by the distant rustle of street traffic and the soft, steady sound of someone breathing on the other end.

"Hello?"

The voice that came through the receiver was deeper now, weathered by the passage of time—but it was unmistakably his. Ren.

A hot wave of tears spilled over my eyelashes, but my throat dried up completely. I wanted to scream, ‘Ren, my mother is dying. I am terrified. Please help me.’ But not a single word could break past my lips. I held my breath, terrified that even the sound of my exhale would expose how broken I truly was.

"Hello? Who is this?" Ren’s tone shifted. The casual indifference was gone, replaced by a sudden, sharp edge of alertness. There was a beat of silence as he listened to my quiet, trembling breathing. Then, his voice dropped, laced with a familiar, agonizing warmth.

"Daisy? Is that you?"

He hadn't forgotten. Even through the static of a silent call, he knew it was me. Hearing my name on his lips felt like a physical touch, breaking through the numbness that had encased me all night. A choked sob escaped me, small and pathetic, but it was all the answer he needed.

"Daisy, talk to me. Where are you? What’s wrong?" His voice was frantic now, laced with a raw panic that I hadn't heard since we were kids. The distance of the last few years, the engineering textbooks, the silent family feuds—they all vanished in a single breath. He was just Ren, and I was just his Daisy.

I looked down at my shaking hands, completely unable to find the words to explain the sterile hospital walls, the terrifying medical reports, or the looming shadow of losing my mother. How could a few syllables carry the weight of my entire world collapsing?

The muffled music from the distant car had faded, but the lyrics still bounced around the empty chambers of my mind. I'm so into you, I can barely breathe. Right then, staring into the bleak, rain-washed dawn, I didn't want to be the responsible daughter anymore. I didn't want to be strong, or independent, or mature. The crushing weight of reality was too much to bear alone. I didn't just need a friend, or a familiar voice. I needed an anchor. I needed a hiding place.

I want to throw myself into you, I thought, the realization burning through my chest like a sudden fever.

I wanted to run to him, to collide with his strength, and let him absorb the shock of my shattered life. I wanted to lose myself in the safety of his presence until the storm inside me finally ran out of rain. I wanted to forget the O-Levels, the distance, and the silence, and just let him hold the pieces of me together before I completely scattered into the wind.

"Ren..." I finally managed to whisper, my voice cracking under the immense pressure. "I'm scared."

There was a sudden, sharp movement on the other end of the line—the sound of keys jingling, a door slamming open, and his heavy footsteps echoing against concrete.

"Don't hang up," Ren commanded, his voice dead serious, cutting through the static. "Tell me exactly where you are. I'm coming to get you."