At first, he didn’t notice it.
One morning passed without a message. Then another. Then a third.
No vibration.
No unknown number.
No quiet guidance.
He checked his phone again and again—unlocking it for no reason, scrolling through old chats, rereading those short, unsettling lines that had once terrified him… and later, strangely, steadied him.
Nothing came.
The silence felt wrong.
The unknown presence had slipped into his life so quietly that he hadn’t realized when it became a habit. A part of his routine. A voice that reminded him, warned him, watched over things he cared about.
Now it was gone.
And he missed it.
That realization disturbed him more than the messages ever had.
Living Without the Voice
Days went by. He settled into his new job, learning systems, understanding people, forcing small conversations. Life looked normal from the outside. Stable. Successful, even.
But inside, something felt incomplete.
At night, he stared at his phone before sleeping—half-expecting it to light up.
It never did.
He wondered if it was ever real.
Or if it had only existed when he was at his weakest.
Some unknown was part of my life… so unclear, isn’t it?
The thought repeated itself often.
A New Chapter Begins
One evening, his mother spoke while folding clothes.
“You’re settled now,” she said gently. “Good job, stable life… it’s time to think about marriage.”
He looked up at her.
Her eyes weren’t pressuring him. They were hopeful.
He nodded slowly. “As you wish, Amma.”
She smiled—the same smile that had pulled him back from darkness more than once.
The talks began. Meetings. Photos. Conversations that felt strange but harmless. He stayed quiet, letting things move forward.
And soon enough, the wedding happened.
Simple. Traditional. Full of relatives and rituals.
Everyone said he looked happy.
He smiled when expected.
After Marriage
His wife was kind. Observant. Soft-spoken.
She noticed things others didn’t—how he sometimes paused mid-thought, how he stared at his phone even when it didn’t ring, how silence around him felt loaded.
One night, she asked casually, “You keep checking your phone. Waiting for someone?”
He hesitated.
“No,” he said. “Just… a habit.”
He didn’t tell her about the unknown messages.
He didn’t know how to explain something he himself couldn’t define.
The Absence
Weeks turned into months.
Still no messages.
The fear faded—but the emptiness didn’t.
He had everything he once prayed for:
A job.
A home.
A wife.
His mother safe and smiling.
And yet, something inside him whispered—
You didn’t win. You were allowed to move forward.
Late one night, as his wife slept beside him, his phone vibrated.
Just once.
He froze.
Heart pounding, he picked it up.
A notification.
But it wasn’t a message.
Just the time changing.
He lay back down slowly, staring at the ceiling.
Lying there in the quiet of the night, he finally understood.
Whatever had spoken to him, guided him, warned him… it was neither an enemy nor a savior. It was the part of him that had learned to survive when no one else could hear his fear. The voice that rose when he stayed silent. The strength that formed when he had no choice but to endure.
The evil within was never truly evil.
It was pain shaped into protection.
Fear turned into awareness.
Loneliness transformed into strength.
And when he no longer needed it—
when his life found balance, love, and purpose—
it stepped back into silence.
Not gone.
Just resting.
Because the moment he would ever break again…
it would return.
And this time, he would know its name.
