Echo of Moon

The first thing they felt was fear.

Not the sudden kind—but the slow, sinking realization that no one was coming to save them.

They lay scattered across the cold floor, bodies bruised, clothes torn, blood smeared where desperation had dragged them. Some cried openly. Some whispered prayers they didn’t believe in anymore. Others begged—voice hoarse, dignity shattered.

“Please… please let us go,” someone sobbed.

“We didn’t mean it,” another screamed.

“Who are you?”

“What did we do to deserve this?”

Their voices collided, panic feeding panic—until the sound of footsteps cut through the chaos.

One step.

Then another.

Slow. Calm. Certain.

A shadow detached itself from the darkness and moved forward. The air felt heavier with every step it took, as if the room itself was holding its breath.

The figure stopped.

Silence swallowed the screams.

Then the voice came—steady, almost gentle, but sharp enough to slice through their souls.

“In a world of secrets, betrayal, and blood, karma doesn’t wait… and neither does revenge.”

No one dared to speak.

Tears froze mid-fall. Hands trembled. Eyes widened.

From among them, one student lifted their head, staring at the figure as realization struck like a blade. Their voice shook, barely audible.

“…It’s you.”

Blackness.

Sunlight spilled through open curtains, soft and warm, kissing a peaceful face that knew nothing of cages or blood.

Ira slept soundly, wrapped in calm dreams, the morning glow painting her room in gold.

“Ira,” her mother called gently, knocking once before entering. “Wake up, beta. Your results are out.”

Ira groaned, burying her face in the pillow. “Already? It’s too early to ruin my life,” she muttered.

Her mother laughed. “Drama queen. Come on.”

Ira sat up, hair messy, heart suddenly racing. They sat side by side on the bed, phone between them.

“Ready?” her mother asked.

Ira inhaled deeply. “As I’ll ever be.”

A tap.

The smile faded.

She stared at the screen, eyes scanning again and again—hoping she had missed something.

She hadn’t.

Her dream university wasn’t there.

“Oh,” Ira whispered, forcing a smile. “It’s… fine.”

But it wasn’t.

Her mother closed the phone and took Ira’s hand. “Listen to me,” she said softly. “Dreams don’t end because plans change.”

Ira looked down, blinking fast.

“Philippines University is good,” her mother continued. “Maybe this is where you’re meant to start your real story.”

Ira hesitated. “What if I fail?”

Her mother smiled. “Then fail beautifully. And get up stronger.”

She leaned closer, eyes playful now. “Besides, let them learn something from a beautiful Indian girl.”

Ira laughed, wiping her tears. “You really think too highly of me.”

“No,” her mother said warmly. “I believe in you.”

Suitcases clicked shut.

Goodbyes waited.

At the airport, the world moved too fast and too slow at the same time.

Her mother hugged her tightly. “Be brave,” she whispered. “And don’t forget who you are.”

“I won’t,” Ira said, her voice steadier than her heart.

As the plane took off, the city faded beneath clouds. Ira pressed her forehead against the window, watching her old life disappear.

“This is it,” she murmured to herself.

“New country. New life.”

She smiled—soft but determined.

“You have to do this,” she whispered.

“You will rock it. It’s your life, jaaneman. You’re going to be the best main character.”

The plane disappeared into the sky.

(Part 2)

I stood in front of my classroom door, staring at it like it might bite me.

My heart was beating so fast it actually scared me.

I placed my palm on my chest and whispered, “Calm down. You’re not here to be scared. You’re here to rock.”

I took a deep breath.

“Come on, jaaneman,” I told myself. “Let’s do this.”

And then I walked in.

Bad decision.

The very next second, I crashed straight into a group of girls.

“Ohhh, you bitch!” one of them yelled.

“What the hell, are you blind?”

They burst out laughing, throwing words at me—fast, sharp, and completely unfamiliar.

Tagalog.

I blinked, confused. “What does that even mean on earth?”

That only made them laugh harder.

Every single person in the class turned to look at us.

The whole class?

I glanced around.

Fourteen students.

Just fourteen.

Great. Small audience. Maximum embarrassment.

I shook my head and focused back on them. “I’m serious,” I said. “What does it even mean?”

One girl stepped forward, smirking. “Huh. You don’t even know Tagalog? You’re not going to survive here more than a week.”

Another one laughed. “One week is too much, darling. She won’t even last two days.”

Then she stepped forward.

Grace.

She crossed her arms, looked me up and down, and shouted, “Ohhh, shut the fuck up, everyone. Let me talk to this cute little puppy.”

My patience snapped.

“Don’t,” I said instantly. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you big ugly witch.”

Yes. I said it.

And yes—I rolled my eyes.

The room went crazy.

Gasps. Whispers. Shocked faces.

Then laughter.

From the boys’ side, someone yelled, “Woooohooooo! Cat fight has begun!”

“Let’s bet!” another voice shouted.

“Cute little puppy!”

“No, our big ugly witch!”

Grace spun around. “Ohhhh, SHUT UPPPP, you idiots!”

She turned back to me, storming forward and trying to push me.

Big mistake.

I reacted without thinking—moved aside and pushed back.

She lost her balance.

And fell.

Hard.

The room went dead silent.

I blinked, then said casually, “Oops. Looks like some witch fell from her bamboo dreams.”

Then I walked past her like nothing happened.

My hands were shaking, but I didn’t let it show.

I scanned the classroom for an empty seat.

Only one.

Right beside a boy who was sleeping, his head resting on the desk like the world didn’t exist.

Perfect, I thought.

As I walked toward the seat, the girls rushed out of the classroom, cursing me loudly in Tagalog as they headed to the restroom.

I exhaled.

Just as I was about to sit—

The boy lifted his head.

Slowly.

He looked at me.

Straight at me.

My heart forgot how to function.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” I blurted out, trying to sound confident.

He leaned back slightly, eyes unreadable.

“In what way?” he asked in a deep, calm voice. “Like what?”

I gulped.

Before I could answer, he smirked.

“Relax,” he said. “Cute little puppy.”

“What?” I snapped. “Stop calling me that!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then what should I call you?”

“My name,” I said firmly. “Ira. So call me Ira.”

He stood up.

Too close.

Way too close.

He stepped toward me and bent slightly, his voice dropping near my ear.

“Nice to meet you, Ira,” he murmured. “I’m Evren.”

My heart stopped bouncing.

His voice.

His warmth.

His breath against my skin.

I couldn’t move.

He straightened, casually patted my head, and smiled faintly.

“See you soon, benchmate.”

Then he walked away.

And I just stood there—frozen—watching him leave, knowing one thing for sure:

This class was not normal.

And neither was the boy who had just walked out of my life like a storm waiting to return.

It was last class of today as soon as teacher left the class I started writing my diary as always .

Hyy, Diary.

Today was my first day at university.

And before you ask—no, it wasn’t normal.

I don’t think “normal” even exists anymore.

I stood in front of my classroom door for a good thirty seconds, pretending to check my timetable while actually talking to myself.

Breathe, Ira. You didn’t cross countries to faint outside a door.

My heart was beating like it had somewhere urgent to be. I placed my hand on my chest and whispered, You are not here to fear. You are here to rock.

Then I smiled.

Because smiling makes fear uncomfortable.

And I walked in.

Bad move.

I immediately bumped into a group of girls, and before I could even say sorry, words were thrown at me—fast, sharp, and completely unfamiliar. Tagalog. I didn’t understand them, but I understood enough.

They weren’t welcoming me.

I asked, “What does that even mean?”

They laughed.

Not the kind that includes you. The kind that pushes you out.

Everyone in the class turned to look at me. And guess what? There were only fourteen students. Fourteen people watching me stand there like I was today’s live entertainment.

One girl said I wouldn’t survive more than a week. Another said two days was already too generous.

Then their leader stepped forward.

Grace.

She looked at me and said, “Let me talk to this cute little puppy.”

Diary, I swear something snapped inside me.

I told her not to talk to me like that. I called her a big ugly witch. Yes, I did. And yes, I rolled my eyes while doing it.

The class went wild.

Boys started shouting. Betting. Laughing.

Grace tried to push me.

She fell instead.

I didn’t even feel guilty.

I said something about witches and bamboo dreams and walked away like I totally planned it. Inside, though? My hands were shaking.

I found an empty seat near a boy who was sleeping like chaos had no right to disturb him.

Evren.

That’s his name.

He woke up, stared at me, and somehow made silence louder than noise. He called me “cute little puppy” too—which I shut down immediately. When he leaned in and said his name near my ear, my heart forgot how to work properly.

Annoying.

The rest of the day passed quietly. Too quietly. Lectures I half understood. Faces I didn’t remember. Thoughts that wouldn’t shut up.

I’m not sure if today made me stronger or just more aware of how alone I am here.

But I didn’t cry.

That has to count for something.

The bell just rang.