The sun rose over Kathmandu, brushing the mountains with soft gold, but Siddharth didn't notice. He lay sprawled on his bed, the laptop closed beside him, and the silence of the room pressed down like a heavy stone. Outside, life moved on — people walked, birds sang, the wind carried the scent of pine and earth — but Siddharth felt untethered, like he was floating in a world that had no place for him.
He thought of his father. Always hopeful, always patient. Every call, every message carried a quiet trust in him, a belief that Siddharth had the power to change, to rise, to become someone remarkable. And yet… he couldn't move. Every attempt, every thought of trying felt like stepping onto a cliff with no safety net. What if he fell again? What if he destroyed himself once more in his father's gaze?
He had spent eighteen years learning, pretending, and chasing dreams he no longer understood. Every lesson, every note, every exam felt like a shadow of a life he could have had. And now, even the memories were hollow. He told himself he was studying, he told everyone he was trying, but deep down he knew — the truth was a mirror he refused to face.
Nameless. That was what he called himself now. Not because he lacked a name, but because he was untethered from expectation, from reality, from judgment. Nameless could exist in silence, could disappear into walls and shadows, could drown in stories of impossible heroes and infinite power. Nameless could feel everything and nothing at the same time.
Siddharth closed his eyes and imagined the worlds he preferred — protagonists who gained systems, knowledge of the entire universe, or unimaginable wealth. The fantasies whispered to him, promising escape, offering a life where failure didn't exist. But he knew it was impossible. Every whisper carried the sting of truth: he couldn't become them, he couldn't cheat reality.
Yet, in the emptiness, a quiet thought lingered: maybe being Nameless wasn't surrender. Maybe it was the first step toward understanding who he really was, beneath the lies, beneath the fear, beneath everything he had hidden.
For now, Siddharth lay still, lost in the weight of nothing, waiting for a spark he wasn't sure he could find.