Prologue: The Smoke and the Silence
The orange ember of my cigarette glowed in the dark, a tiny, burning star in the middle of my room. I watched the smoke curl and vanished into the shadows, a grey ghost that looked remarkably like the man I used to be.
If you had asked me a year ago, I would have told you that drinking was a sin and smoking was a slow suicide. I was the guy who held his breath when walking past a smoker on the street. I was a man of steel principles, a clear map for my future, and a heart that was whole. I was the “soldier”—disciplined, focused, and untouchable. But tonight, my lungs are heavy with ash, and my room is a graveyard of empty packets. It’s funny how pain changes your definitions. The things I once called ‘sins’ are now the only things that keep the silence from becoming too loud. During the day, I’m a ghost. I move through the motions of life, I nod at the right times, and I pretend to be the Soyel everyone expects to see. I play the part well—the student, the friend, the person who is ‘alright.’ I wear the mask so tightly that sometimes even I forget there is a shattered man underneath it.
But the sun is a liar. As soon as the night catches me, the mask slips. The silence of the 2:00 AM darkness is a trigger. I can’t get her out of my system. She’s like the nicotine—hooked into my blood, making it impossible to breathe without thinking of her. The more I try to exhale her memory, the deeper she sinks into my lungs.
I close my eyes and I’m no longer in this smoke-filled room. I’m back there. I can hear her voice—that specific, crazy pitch she got when she was excited. I can see the way she looked when she was talking about nothing and everything at the same time. The way she laughed, the way she looked at me, and the way the world felt like it was finally starting to make sense. I remember the first time I heard that voice. I remember the air before it was thick with smoke—back when it tasted like fresh rain and the nervous energy of a new beginning. Back when my heart didn’t know what it felt like to be shattered into a million pieces.
I flick the ash into the tray and let the darkness take me back to October. Back to the beginning...
