Ram never believed in signs.
He believed in logic. In emails and deadlines. In missed calls and low battery notifications.
He believed in things he could see, touch, measure.
But that was before the dream.
Before the voice.
Before the sky stopped being just… sky.
Nights had become heavy for Ram.
The bed felt too big.
The room felt too small.
The clock on the wall seemed louder than his heartbeat.
Every tick reminded him Sita wasn't there.
Months had passed since she left India for work. They spoke when they could.
Different countries, different time zones, different lives.
Love was still there. Strong. Pure. Unshaken.
But loneliness… didn't care.
It came every night.
Sat beside him.
Wrapped around his chest.
Breathed in his ear:
"She's gone. She'll never come back."
So that night, when the dream came, Ram thought it was just another attack from his tired mind.
---
In the dream, he stood in the middle of a dark road.
No cars.
No humans.
No lights.
Just wind.
Cold. Sharp. Cruel.
He hugged himself and looked around.
"Sita?"
His own voice sounded small.
No answer.
The wind grew stronger.
His shirt fluttered. His eyes burned. His bones shivered.
He tried to move, but the road beneath him felt like glue. Heavy. Sticky. Wrong.
Then he saw it.
Far ahead.
A shadow.
At first, he wasn't sure if it was a person… or just his hope playing tricks.
But then the shape started walking toward him.
Slow. Weak. Shaking.
"Sita?" he whispered.
The shadow came closer.
Long hair. Familiar height. Thin shoulders.
His heart recognized her before his eyes did.
"Sita!"
He tried to run, but his legs refused.
She lifted her face.
Her eyes were empty.
Her lips were trembling.
Her skin looked pale, drained of life.
"Ram…"
Her voice was barely there. Like it had traveled from a far, far place just to reach him.
"What happened? Where are you? Sita… what is this place?" he shouted.
She opened her mouth to answer—
But darkness swallowed her.
The road cracked open between them like a wound.
Black mist rose from the ground.
Her body faded, like smoke, like memory, like she was being erased from his reality.
"SITA!"
His lungs tore with that scream.
He reached out.
His fingers touched nothing.
She vanished.
All that remained was wind.
Cruel. Empty. Laughing.
Ram fell to his knees.
His palms hit the invisible ground.
His chest burned like someone had lit a fire inside his ribs.
From somewhere above, something whispered:
"She is gone."
He woke up with a scream stuck in his throat.
---
His shirt was drenched in sweat.
His heart was punching his ribs.
His hands were shaking like they didn't belong to him.
Ram looked around.
His room.
His cupboard.
His table.
The same.
But he was not the same.
He swallowed, tried to control his breathing.
"It's just a dream," he muttered. "Just stress. Just overthinking."
He got up and walked to the balcony for air.
The night outside was quiet.
Too quiet.
The city lights glittered in the distance.
A stray dog barked once, then fell silent.
Ram rubbed his face.
"Get it together," he whispered to himself. "You're exhausted. That's all. Don't turn into one of those people who see 'signs' in everything."
He stepped onto the balcony and looked up.
The sky stared back.
It should've been normal.
A few clouds. A sprinkle of stars. The same pattern he'd seen since childhood.
But tonight… something was different.
The stars looked brighter.
Sharper.
Closer.
Almost as if they were watching him.
He shook his head instantly.
"No. I'm just imagining it."
He turned around to go back inside.
The moment he placed his foot on the first step—
He heard it.
A voice.
Soft. Gentle. So close, it felt like it was right beside his ear.
"Rama…"
He froze.
Every hair on his body stood up.
His heartbeat stopped, then came back double-speed.
He didn't turn around.
Maybe it's my mind. Maybe it's the dream echoing. Maybe I'm really losing it.
He swallowed, forced a laugh.
"Great. Now I'm hearing things too," he whispered.
He took another step.
The voice came again.
This time, even softer.
"Rama…"
Not "Ram."
Not "hey."
Not "excuse me."
Rama.
The name he had heard in stories.
The name tied to prayers and temples.
The name elders used when they blessed him as a child.
Rama.
The sound wrapped around him like warm cloth on a cold day.
And in that second, he knew something for sure:
This wasn't fear.
This wasn't madness.
This wasn't a hallucination.
It felt… sacred.
---
He slowly turned back toward the sky.
And for the first time in his life, he felt like he wasn't just looking at the sky.
He felt like the sky was looking back at him.
The stars weren't random tonight.
They pulsed.
They glowed.
They looked alive.
Like the universe had leaned in, just a little, just for him.
His breathing slowed without him trying.
His hands stopped shaking.
A strange warmth touched his skin.
Not wind.
Not temperature.
Something else.
Something that didn't belong to this planet.
It slid over his arms, his chest, his face.
Like a hand made of light… gently calming a crying child.
Ram didn't move.
He didn't blink.
He just stood there, a small human under an endless sky, feeling something he never thought he would feel:
Peace.
The panic that had gripped his chest since Sita left… loosened.
The dream that had just torn him apart… faded into the background.
The heaviness that had been his constant companion for months… lifted.
Inside him, silence bloomed.
Not the silence of being alone.
The silence of being held.
He didn't know how long he stood there.
Maybe minutes.
Maybe hours.
Maybe time itself had stopped just to give him this one breath.
Nothing around him changed.
The balcony remained the same.
The buildings remained the same.
The night remained the same.
But inside him… everything shifted.
He whispered into the quiet:
"Who are you?"
The answer didn't come as words.
It came as light.
---
The horizon began to glow.
Darkness didn't suddenly disappear.
It surrendered slowly.
The first ray of dawn slid into the sky, soft and shy.
Then another.
Then another.
Black faded into blue.
Blue melted into orange.
Orange kissed gold.
Colors blossomed across the sky like someone was painting with the purest palette in existence.
Ram watched, eyes wide.
He'd seen sunrises before.
But never like this.
The light didn't just appear in the sky.
It felt like it appeared for him.
One beam broke away from the rest.
Slow. Gentle. Straight.
It traveled across the air and settled directly on his forehead.
Right between his eyebrows.
He closed his eyes.
The warmth seeped inside.
His thoughts quietened.
His fear crumbled.
His heart, which had been tight and guarded, loosened its grip.
A single tear rolled down his cheek.
Not from pain.
From recognition.
From the strange feeling that he wasn't alone.
That he had never been alone.
That someone had been watching, guiding, waiting… for him to finally look up.
He didn't hear a voice this time.
He didn't need to.
A message rose softly from inside him, like a memory he didn't remember storing:
"She is safe.
Nothing will happen to her."
He exhaled… as if he'd been holding his breath for months.
He wiped his tears.
Looked up at the sky again.
And whispered, with a tiny, honest smile:
"Thank you."
No bargaining.
No demands.
No complaints.
Just gratitude.
Just peace.
---
The day began like any other for the world.
People rushed to work.
Cars honked.
Coffee brewed.
Alarms rang.
But inside Ram, a quiet revolution had started.
Something had shifted so deeply that if you looked at him from the outside, you'd say:
"He looks the same."
But if you could see his soul…
You'd know everything had changed.
Because sometimes, life doesn't send explanations.
Sometimes, it doesn't send miracles with loud drums or lightning.
Sometimes…
It sends a dream that breaks you.
Then a sky that heals you.
It sends a whisper.
A sunrise.
A moment of silence so holy that you walk away… different.
That morning, as the golden light fully claimed the sky, Ram stepped back into his room.
The nightmare still existed.
The uncertainty still existed.
Sita was still far away.
But for the first time in a long time—
Fear wasn't driving him.
Peace was.
Somewhere, deep beyond the clouds, something smiled.
Because the first step had been taken.
The call had been heard.
The warrior had opened his eyes.
And the universe, very softly, repeated the name it had chosen long before he was born:
"Rama…"