Chapter 03
Between confession and concealment, an endless battle rages on.
Even if one side wins, the outcome is never certain.
If silence and suppression prevail, a person lives as a prisoner of pain and regret, lost among worries, unable to find an exit or an end.
And if confession takes the upper hand—revealing what stirs within—the flames of remorse ignite, burning the heart, pushing one to act hastily without weighing the consequences. Yet, they may finally be able to breathe and feel relief, if only for a short while, before plunging into unexpected events.
Shawn arrived carrying Sirine on his back, accompanied by Linda, drawing looks of astonishment from everyone.
The girl who never let the university be quiet—always laughing, shouting, and jumping around like a child—was now asleep.
How could she sleep at such a time, especially on a day like this?
Shawn gently placed her on her seat and said:
Shawn:
"This is really strange… what could have happened to her for her to fall asleep like this?"
Linda:
"Let's leave her until she wakes up and ask her. Maybe she stayed up all night watching her favorite movies, hahaha."
A few minutes later, the class representative entered with a relieved expression.
Class Rep:
"Attention. The professor won't be coming today, so this will be a free period. Don't cause trouble, or we'll be punished. Understood?"
Shawn and Linda exchanged looks of relief.
Shawn:
"What a relief! We won't have to explain her situation to the professor or make excuses. She's lucky, hahaha. I'm finally at ease."
Linda:
"Yeah, you're right."
The entire period passed, and Sirine finally woke up, confusion clear on her face as she rubbed her eyes like a little child.
Sirine:
"Where am I? How did I get to the classroom? Wait—
Was I asleep? How many hours? How did this happen? Oh my God, I'm dead for sure!"
She spoke rapidly and nervously, realizing she had slept through the entire class despite all the noise caused by the absence of the professor—and how unusually exhausted she felt.
Shawn:
"Oh, finally, the sleeping beauty woke up and her shouting is back again. Thank God, I thought you had changed too much, hahaha."
Linda:
"Do you know you almost broke poor Jain's back when you jumped on him? He nearly died because of you. And seriously, what happened? It's not like you to sleep at the university—especially on the first day."
Shawn:
"Hey! What about me? I'm the one who carried her and brought her here. My arms and back were crushed too! Why is Jain the only poor one here?"
Linda:
"Are you jealous now, Mr. Complainer? Haha."
Shawn:
"Jealous? Me? Oh please. I forgot that the lady here is madly obsessed with Jain. I should've remembered you were here, hahaha."
Linda:
"Look who's talking about obsession and forgetting himself! Aren't you the one hopelessly in love with Dina—unable to say a single word when she looks at you?"
While Linda and Shawn kept bickering, Sirine stayed silent, trying to remember what had happened. She finally interrupted them:
Sirine:
"Will one of you tell me what happened, or will you keep arguing like children?"
Linda:
"What, did you lose your memory? We gathered at the university gate, you started screaming with joy as usual about coming back. While we were talking, Jain screamed because you jumped hard on his back—then you fell asleep without realizing it. When the first class started, Shawn carried you here, and you didn't wake up until now."
Sirine (tilting her head):
"Really? Ah… now I remember. I was tired and wanted to sit on one of the nearby seats. When I turned to call you, I suddenly saw a white bed that looked so comfortable. I ran to it, jumped on it, felt relaxed—and the next thing I knew, I was here, hahaha."
Shawn:
"You idiot, that was Jain's back! He was wearing a white jacket. A bed, she says, hahaha!"
Linda:
"Why didn't you sleep early? Were you up watching movies again? Answer me."
She scolded her sharply, demanding an answer.
Sirine replied with what Dina knew—but had never told anyone else, at Sirine's request, pretending it was the whole truth.
Sirine (with tired, sorrowful eyes):
"No… that didn't happen. My father came and pulled me off my bed, put a huge pile of work papers in front of me, and told me to finish them before morning. It was a lot of work."
She said it while looking utterly exhausted—but it was all a lie.
The truth was something else entirely.
Do you want to know it?
Wait… not now.
She let out a very tired sigh after speaking.
Linda:
"Really? Are you telling the truth?"
Shawn:
"Can't you see how tired she is? She must be telling the truth—especially if she was told to be ready early in the morning."
Linda (sighing sadly):
"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier, but I don't feel like you're telling the whole truth. I'll believe you this time. Try to rest—but our conversation isn't over. Understood?"
When you have someone who understands you, there are only two ways to escape them:
Either you confess everything, letting bitterness spill out and shaking the dust of exhaustion and sleeplessness off your withering soul…
Or you fabricate one story after another, supported by false evidence, as an illusory shield to protect a painful and unacceptable truth in your miserable life.
And here our heroine faces that cursed doubt—from a friend she knows she won't escape easily after what happened.
Despite everything Sirine has endured and continues to endure, none of them see the depth of her suffering.
She listens to everyone's pain and unspoken cries, yet no one hears her complaints or knows her secrets.
She understands that each of her friends carries their own pain and silent scream, each trying to hide it—especially after they found one another, attempting to build a world of their own, free from sadness and hopeless despair.
That is why they have never seen her collapse, her tears of oppression, or her helpless weakness.
They have never seen her bleeding wounds or deadly aches—because she mastered the art of concealment, creating a desired but incomplete reality, preserving an environment adorned with sincere smiles and warm feelings…
Just to forget her dark hellish days, even for a little while, alongside those who share the silent moans of a broken, ruined heart—without end, without relief