Chapter 1
A dream. I saw a dream. A dream that lingered in my mind for hours, weaving its ethereal silk through the mundane fabric of my waking thoughts until the two became indistinguishable. It was a vision that clawed at the back of my skull, a ghost of a memory that refused to fade with the rising sun. I wanted to make it a reality, so badly that the air in my lungs felt thin and hollow without her presence to fill it. Every ticking second of my conscious life became a grueling countdown until I could close my eyes and find the only place where the world felt right. This dream would always remind me of her.
She is the architect of my sleep, the girl born from the depths of my subconscious. I have spent countless nights tracing the geometry of her face, the lithe grace of her figure, the electric ghost of her touch, and the devastating radiance of her beautiful smile. I have memorized every single detail.
the way the light catches the amber flecks in her eyes, the specific cadence of her laughter that sounds like a symphony composed just for me. To the rest of the world, she is a shadow—to me, she is the only thing that is solid.
I wanted her. I needed her. I loved her with a ferocity that bordered on the divine. I didn’t care about the laws of nature or the boundaries of the mind. I demanded that this dream become a reality. A reality of us being together. Together forever. I began to despise the morning light, viewing it as a thief that stole her away from me, dragging me back to a colorless world where she didn’t walk beside me.
But the logic of the world tried to poison me. The cold, clinical voices of reason whispered the impossible .she doesn’t exist except in your dreams.
Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny.
I rejected their “truth” with a primal scream of the soul. I denied the fact that she wasn’t real until the lie of her absence became the only thing I refused to believe. I let my obsession grow, a frantic, white-hot fire engulfing every rational thought, every hobby, and every friendship in its path. My life became a scorched earth, cleared of everything that wasn’t her.
Anyone who dared to suggest she was a figment of my imagination, a byproduct of firing neurons—I hated them. I hated them with every inch of my being, every drop of blood that pulsed with her name. Their words were a blasphemy against her. How could they be real when they were so empty, and she was so full of life?
She exists. She exists. She exists. She exists. She exists. She exists. She exists. She exists. She exists. She exists. She exists. She exists. She exists.
The boundary between my eyelids and the world has finally begun to dissolve. Now, I see her in the corner of my eye while I walk down crowded streets. I see her reflection in store windows, a fleeting glimpse of silk and starlight. I want to kill those who think she’s not real. I want to tear the skepticism from their throats and devour their thoughts until they choke on the reality of her beauty. They are the phantoms, not her. They are the shadows, and she is the sun.
My Alyaa exists. And soon, I will make sure the whole world bleeds until they see her too.
