Chapter 1
I'm Aria, twenty-one years old college student. Not the one who seeks attention.
I’m not particularly quiet, but I’m not the loudest either. I have friends, I go to college, I work part-time, and I laugh at jokes even when they’re not funny.
From the outside, my life probably looks completely normal.
Maybe it is. Or maybe I'm good at pretending.
I’m the kind of person who remembers little things about other people, either its the way my best friend takes her coffee or the song my mother likes to play while cooking.
But somehow, I’ve never been very good at explaining myself. If someone asks me what’s wrong, I usually say, “Nothing.” If they ask again, I say, “I’m just tired.” And if they keep asking, I smile. It’s easier that way.
People don’t really want complicated answers. They want simple ones.
Lately, though, I wasn’t sure if I believed myself anymore.
College had started feeling less exciting. My friends seemed to have plans for their lives while I was still trying to figure out what I wanted for mine.
Everyone around me seemed to be moving forward.
I felt like I was standing still.
And I hated admitting that. Maybe because, there was no actual reason for me to feel that way. I mean, I had a family who loved me, had friends, had a job.
I had everything I was supposed to be grateful for.
So why did I still feel lonely sometimes?
There was no answer for that...
It was a Thursday night when everything started.
I had come home later than usual after work. My room was dark except for the light from my phone, everything else was quiet.
I changed into my pajamas, tied my hair into a messy bun, and dropped onto my bed.
I opened Instagram, don’t even know what I was looking for.
Maybe distraction...maybe...or maybe someone else’s life to remind me that mine wasn’t as boring as i was thinking...
I scrolled through stories, a birthday dinner, a couple taking pictures, someone showing off their new car, a friend posting about an upcoming trip.
Everyone seemed happy or at least, they seemed online. I locked my phone.
For a few seconds, I stared at the ceiling.
Then I picked it up again.
Without thinking too much, I opened my story and typed:
Sometimes I wish people would stop asking if I’m okay when they don’t actually want to hear the answer.
I read it once, then again.My thumb hovered over the screen. Maybe, I should delete it. Instead, I pressed Post. The story went live.
And immediately, I regretted it. "What am I doing?” I whispered. Threw my phone onto the other side of the bed and tried to ignore it.
Five minutes later, it buzzed. I didn’t move. It buzzed again. Finally reached for it. There was one reply. From someone I didn’t know.
The username was:
@noahafterdark
His message was simple.
Maybe they ask because they’re afraid of the real answer.
I stared at the screen, no idea who he was. I didn’t know his name or what he looked like.
I didn’t even know why I cared about one random comment from a stranger.
But for some reason...I replied. And that was the first mistake I made.
Or maybe—the first good decision.
