Dark Rebirth

Sayan’s life had never been colorful—not even for a single day. Mornings began with the harsh blare of an alarm. The moment he opened his eyes, the same thought struck him: another day of the same routine. Pushing through crowds on the metro to reach the office, from nine in the morning until eleven at night—writing code, fixing bugs, enduring the boss’s shouting. Sometimes he’d fall asleep at his desk with his head resting on it until two in the morning. When he got home, he’d open the door himself. He’d make a cup of tea for Nishi, with just the right amount of milk and sugar the way she liked it. But by then, Nishi would already be asleep. The cup left beside the bed would be cold by morning. “Late again today?”—that was her only question, followed by silence. Neither of them had time to talk anymore. Three years of marriage. In the beginning, Nishi used to smile. Looking into his eyes, she’d say, “You work so hard. One day everything will be okay. We’ll get a bigger flat, have a child, go on vacations.” Sayan would nod and smile. But slowly, the smiles faded. A weariness settled in Nishi’s eyes—one that Sayan saw but failed to truly notice. One day, Sayan got off work early and came home. In his hand was a small chocolate cake—the day after Nishi’s birthday. He thought he’d surprise her today. The door was unlocked. From inside came the sound of unfamiliar laughter. A woman’s giggle and a man’s low voice. Standing at the bedroom door, he saw—Nishi and… Rahat. Rahat—Sayan’s best friend from school. The one he’d studied with late into the night in college, worked on projects with. The one who, at the wedding, had put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Bro, I’ll look after your wife like the apple of my eye. Never hurt her.” No sound came from Sayan’s throat. He just stood there. The cake box slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. Nishi jumped up from the bed, startled, wrapping the sheet around herself. “Sayan… this… you don’t understand…” Then the fight began. Shouting, crying, accusations. “You never gave me any time! I’ve been alone in this house!” “I worked so hard for you! Everything was for your sake!” “For my sake? You only bring money home—you don’t even talk to me!” Finally, Nishi said, “I can’t do this anymore. Let’s get divorced.” A few days later, Sayan tried to win Nishi back. He brought flowers, begged for forgiveness. But when the door opened, he saw Rahat inside. Rahat smiled and said, “Bro, you know it yourself—you could never keep her happy. Just go. Get out of here. You’re a loser.” Those words stabbed into Sayan’s chest like a knife. That night, sitting alone, he cried for the first time. Silently—just tears rolling down. After that, everything began to crumble. He couldn’t concentrate at the office. Mistakes in code. Clients complained. The boss called him in and said, “Sayan, you’re not the same anymore. We have to let you go.” The job was gone. Money in the bank ran out. He couldn’t pay the rent. The landlord evicted him. He took a laborer’s job at a construction site. From six in the morning until seven in the evening. Carrying sacks of cement on his shoulder, lifting rods—all day his body ached. At night, he returned to a small, open room and lay alone. Mosquitoes, heat, hunger. His body started feeling wrong. Weight dropped. Coughing. Blood. At first he thought it was a cold. But the cough wouldn’t stop. One day, borrowing money from a friend, he went to the hospital. The doctor looked at the reports and fell silent. Then he said, “Lung cancer. Last stage. Not much time left.” Sayan said nothing. He just nodded and walked out. No money for treatment. No one to tell. Slowly, his body wasted away. He couldn’t walk. Couldn’t eat. In his final days, lying on the bed in the empty flat, he stared at the sky through the window. One night, when breathing became difficult, he whispered, “God… if You really exist… give me another life. A life I can live beautifully. Where I can become strong. Where no one can betray me. If there is someone… who truly loves me… Let me feel that just once. This time… I won’t make the same mistakes.” Then his eyes closed. His breath stopped. Weeks later, a small news item appeared on a TV channel— “A decomposed body was recovered from an empty flat in the capital. The deceased’s name was Sayan. No relatives or family came forward to claim it. Police arranged for the burial.” But Sayan’s story did not end here. Beyond the darkness… a new light began to glow.