The Hollow Soul

It was an unusually cold night, with the moon hiding behind a thick veil of clouds. In the silence of his apartment, Arjun stared at his reflection in the window. His eyes, once filled with ambition, now carried a void so deep it mirrored the darkness outside. The city lights shimmered behind him, but they felt distant—like stars in a sky he could never reach.

Arjun wasn’t always this way. There was a time when he laughed, dreamed, and chased the world with open arms. But betrayal had a way of carving scars that words couldn’t heal. One by one, the people he trusted—friends, colleagues, even family—had let him down. Each betrayal was a whisper in the wind, eroding his faith in humanity.

That night, he closed his eyes, wishing for an escape. Not death—no, Arjun wasn’t ready to die. He just wanted to stop feeling, to disconnect from the relentless ache gnawing at his soul.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

He wasn’t expecting anyone. The city was vast, and he had made himself invisible within it. His pulse quickened as he approached the door. Through the peephole, he saw a young girl, no older than seven, shivering in the cold.

"Help me," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Against his better judgment, Arjun opened the door. The girl stepped inside, clutching a tattered blanket. Her eyes, wide and searching, seemed to hold a story far older than her years.

"Who are you?" he asked, kneeling to her level.

"Someone lost, just like you," she replied, her words carrying a weight that startled him.

Arjun frowned. "Lost? How do you know me?"

The girl smiled faintly. "I know many things. I know you feel invisible. I know you think the world is a cruel place. And I know you’ve stopped believing in people."

"Who are you?" he repeated, his voice tinged with fear.

"I’m here to show you something," she said, her small hand reaching for his. Her touch was warm, a stark contrast to the icy air outside.

Before he could react, the room dissolved around him. He found himself standing in the middle of a bustling street. The world was alive—people rushed past, laughing, talking, living. Yet no one seemed to notice him or the girl by his side.

"Do you see them?" she asked.

Arjun nodded. "They’re just people."

"Look closer."

He obeyed, and as he did, the facades of happiness peeled away. He saw a woman smiling at her phone, only to later swipe away a tear. A man in a tailored suit hesitated at the edge of the sidewalk, his expression betraying the burden of invisible battles. Even a child holding a balloon had eyes that seemed to carry stories too heavy for their age.

"They’re all... broken," Arjun murmured.

"Not broken," the girl corrected. "Human. Each of them carries pain, just like you. Yet they keep going."

"But why? What’s the point if the world keeps hurting us?" he asked, frustration lacing his tone.

The girl turned to him, her gaze piercing. "The point isn’t to avoid pain, Arjun. It’s to rise above it. To find meaning in the connections we make, even if they’re fleeting."

Suddenly, the scene shifted. He was in his office, watching a younger version of himself arguing with a colleague. He remembered this moment vividly—it was the day his best friend, Karan, had betrayed him by taking credit for his work.

"You see betrayal," the girl said, "but did you ever ask why?"

Arjun turned to her, confusion clouding his face. "Why does it matter?"

"Because even the cruelest actions have roots."

The image changed. Arjun saw Karan sitting in a dimly lit room, cradling his head in his hands. Bills were scattered on the table. A young child cried in the background.

"Karan wasn’t trying to hurt you," the girl explained. "He was desperate. His betrayal wasn’t about you—it was about survival."

Arjun’s chest tightened. He had spent years hating Karan, convinced that his actions were born of malice. Yet here was a truth he had never considered.

"You’re not saying what he did was right," Arjun said, his voice soft.

"No," the girl replied. "But understanding doesn’t mean excusing. It means freeing yourself from the chains of anger."

The scene dissolved once more, and they were back in his apartment. The girl stood by the window, gazing out at the city.

"Why are you showing me this?" Arjun asked, his voice breaking.

"Because you’ve forgotten what it means to be alive," she said. "Pain doesn’t make you hollow, Arjun. It makes you human. And being human means you have the power to heal—not just yourself, but others."

For the first time in years, Arjun felt the stirrings of something he thought he had lost: hope.

The girl turned to leave, but before she stepped through the door, she paused. "One last thing," she said. "The world isn’t divided into good and bad people. It’s made of broken souls trying to find their way. Be kind, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard."

And with that, she was gone.

Arjun stood in the silence, her words echoing in his mind. He didn’t know who she was or why she had come, but her message was clear. The world didn’t need to change for him to heal. He just needed to see it differently.

From that night on, Arjun made a promise to himself. He wouldn’t let his pain define him. Instead, he would use it to connect with others, to build bridges where walls once stood.

And for the first time in years, he felt alive.

-Lucky