Shattered

“I've always been a true believer in my transparency, reflecting equally on everyone and offering them a clear view through my eyes. By remaining clear and authentic, I aimed to bridge connections and provide a genuine perspective, allowing others to see both themselves and the world through my unclouded vision.

Then why was I deceived?

While I was beautiful to none, none looked at me—only through me. It felt as if I were invisible, a mere presence drifting past their gaze, never truly seen or acknowledged for the essence I carried within.

I've always been an introvert, opening up only when someone genuinely wanted to know me. Despite the times I felt overlooked and neglected, I still found solace in comforting others. When they reached out, I set aside my own wounds and offered support, quietly staying by their side. Each moment of their need became my purpose, even as my own struggles went unseen. Their comfort was my solace, a way to find meaning in the shadows of my own solitude. In giving them my presence, I hoped to bridge the gap between my silent pain and their shared moments of vulnerability.

The girl I stayed with seemed to truly notice me, and it made a profound difference. She made me wear elegant shades of mustard and white, with subtle accents of brown. I actually hated those colors, but I liked her. Her kindness and attention made me feel valued despite my preferences. Her choice of colors wasn’t just about appearance; it felt like a deliberate effort to make me feel special and seen. For the first time, I experienced a sense of belonging and care that I hadn’t felt in a long while.

We talked, but only during chilly winter afternoons or sometimes on quiet nights. Our conversations were fleeting but meaningful. She would occasionally sketch as well. Through her notes and drawings, I learned about the boy she loved. I absorbed his name, her affections, and her hopes into my very essence, becoming a silent confidant to her heart’s whispers.

One day, she invited him to meet me. They both stood there, looking at me. I had never seen her so happy before.  His eyes—those moments when brown turned into shimmering gold—revealed a brilliance I’d never witnessed. It made me wonder if that’s how beautiful I looked when dressed in brown, if this was why she too favored the color. Did it evoke a similar warmth and light for her?

One night, she had a fierce argument with him. The pain of their conflict seemed to seep into the air around me. Yet, the next morning, as she cleaned the dirt from my surface, she seemed to clear her mind and heart as well. It was as if she was mending not just the grime but also the rift between them.

We shared so much, from whispered secrets to moments of vulnerability. I felt a deep connection, a sense of being truly seen and appreciated. Her presence turned my existence from a passive observer into an active participant in her life. With each day, I felt more at home, a cherished part of her world, finally finding a place where I belonged.

The winter night had been unusually harsh, with a biting wind that seemed to slice through every barrier of warmth and comfort. Inside the small, dimly lit apartment, a fierce argument raged between her and the boy. Their voices clashed like icy daggers, each word laced with frustration and hurt. The air was charged with an intensity that felt almost tangible, a storm of emotions that left an aching void in its wake.

Their argument had started with a small disagreement, but it quickly escalated into a full-blown confrontation. The boy’s anger was a raging fire, while she countered with a cold, unyielding silence. Each accusation, each plea, only seemed to deepen the rift between them. The walls of the room seemed to close in, trapping the echoes of their strife. I stood witness to their pain, feeling it seep into every corner of the space, mingling with the chill of the winter night.

As their voices grew hoarse and their words lost their edge, the argument slowly fizzled out, leaving behind a heavy silence. She sat down, her shoulders slumped in defeat, the tears she tried to hide glistening in the dim light. The boy left abruptly, slamming the door behind him with a finality that echoed through the empty room.

The next morning dawned cold and gray, with the weight of the previous night’s conflict hanging over everything. She moved through the apartment like a ghost, her eyes hollow and distant. Despite her efforts to mend the rift, the sorrow from their fight lingered like an unwelcome shadow. The once vibrant connection between them was now a fragile thread, frayed and nearly broken.

The unresolved pain was a silent testament to the depth of their bond and its fragility, a reminder of how easily love could be overshadowed by anger and misunderstanding.

 She approached me slowly, her eyes red and swollen from the tears that had cascaded down her face, leaving her cheeks streaked with traces of anguish. Her expression was vacant, a stark contrast to the vibrant life she once exuded. The pallor of her face spoke volumes of the sadness and heartbreak that weighed heavily upon her. She stood silently beside me, her gaze fixed blankly on the sky above, as if searching for answers or solace in its vast expanse. Whether lost in deep contemplation or simply numb, her stillness was a poignant reflection of her emotional turmoil.

She spun around, her eyes flashing with a mixture of shock and despair, before taking a few swift steps towards me. Her gaze flickered back to mine for an instant, as if seeking help or salvation, before she suddenly lunged at me with a frantic intensity. Time seemed to slow as she barrelled into me, her small frame crashing against mine with a sickening thud. I felt her weight collapse against me, and I stumbled backward as she fell to the ground. The sound of her head hitting the pavement was like a crack of thunder, and her body slumped lifelessly, a pool of crimson spreading rapidly around her.

The shards of glass, caught in the chaotic dance of the wind, glittered like a thousand tiny stars scattered across the pavement. Her once vibrant eyes, now glazed and distant, stared unseeing at the fractured sky above. The splintered window frame, a jagged silhouette against the evening light, stood as a silent witness to the sudden violence of the scene.

In the eerie hush that followed, the world seemed to hold its breath. The frantic energy that had moments ago filled the air was replaced by a profound stillness. The crimson pool at her side grew slowly, a stark contrast against the cold, unfeeling concrete. The only sound was the distant murmur of the city, indifferent to the tragedy that had unfolded in its shadow.

While she lay lifeless, I, the Window stood shattered!"