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Shiny Promises

The bills kept piling. The silence at home was heavier than any debt I carried.

I thought maybe—just maybe—money could fix it all. Heal the cracks, bring back the smiles, ease the pressure pressing on my chest every day.

So I searched. Not in banks. Not in jobs. But on my phone.

And there they were. Shiny promises on Facebook. Messages on WhatsApp. Each one whispering the same thing: “This could be your way out.”

I wanted to believe. I needed to believe.

#shiny promises #no easy fix

sr-roto

bluelady127-deactivated20260728

crizzikhsan

This is part of the Corporate Horror series.

“Can you resend the final report? I accidentally deleted it from my email…..”

Bumble blinked. She knew she sent that report. To her manager. To the team. To herself. Twice.

mockva

sr-roto

fake-protagonist

Ya Allah…andai satu hari nanti, setiap doa yang pernah aku titipkan Kau makbulkan,izinkan aku untuk tetap datang kepadaMu,bukan kerana aku memerlukan,tapi kerana aku merindukanMu.

Jangan biarkan aku hanya sujud ketika dunia terasa berat,tapi hilang dalam tawa ketika Kau beri aku bahagia.

Ya Allah,jika suatu masa nanti hatiku menjadi terlalu selesa dengan nikmatMu,ingatkan aku…bahawa semua yang aku miliki hanyalah pinjaman,dan setiap bahagia itu,adalah ruang kecil untuk aku lebih dekat denganMu.

Ajarkan aku untuk bersyukur,bukan hanya dengan kata,tapi dengan hati yang tunduk,dan perbuatan yang ikhlas.

Ya Allah,ketika dunia membuat aku lupa arah,pimpinlah aku kembali padaMu,dengan lembut, seperti kasihMu yang tak pernah berhenti memanggilku pulang.

Epilogue - The quiet after

The storm is gone, yet its echoes linger. I have learned that peace is earned, not given. That trust must be rebuilt, slowly, deliberately.

I still feel fear. I still check shadows. I still guard every message, every call, every unexpected knock.

But I have also discovered something else: Allies appear in the darkest moments—friends, family, strangers, even forces beyond sight. Prayers whispered in desperation can carry strength. Small victories, day by day, reclaim what was nearly lost: dignity, respect, self-belief.

Life is no longer a freefall into despair. It is cautious steps forward. A balance between vigilance and hope.

And in that balance, I am learning to live again.

#live again #walking the balance

Reclaiming Self (The Echoes Remain)

he storm has passed, but the echoes remain.

Peace is fragile. Trust is fragile.

I work to rebuild both—especially with my wife, my family, the ones I almost let down entirely.

The threat of divorce still lingers. But for now, everything is quiet. Quiet enough to hear myself think. Quiet enough to plan.

I chase every possible income, juggling debts that still strangle my life. The toxic work environment persists. The financial pressure continues.

But I refuse to turn to money lenders again. Every step is deliberate. Every ringgit accounted for. One day at a time.

Fear remains. I no longer answer unknown numbers. Every message, every email, treated with caution.

Trust must be earned. Peace must be preserved.

Slowly… I am learning.

Dignity is rebuilt with actions, not words. Respect is reclaimed through consistency, not promises. Hope grows in the small victories of each day.

The abyss is still there. Shadows linger.

But now, I face them with eyes wide open. Cautious, wary… yet unbroken.

The storm has passed, yet the shadows watch quietly. I move forward, one careful step at a time—unbroken, wary, alive.

#storm has passed #heavy rain remains #wary yet unbroken

Those Who Still Notice

There’s a kind of silence that feels heavier than noise. You do your work, you keep showing up, you heal — quietly — and sometimes you realize the ones closest to you have stopped noticing.

My wife and kids haven’t asked about my broken toe, or how I’m holding up. The only time I hear from them lately is when something needs attention.

But Alhamdulillah, Allah never leaves us unseen. My mother still asks how I’m doing. My team checks in. Friends from the state government noticed my limp before I even mentioned it.

It’s in these small gestures that I find mercy — that being cared for isn’t about who should, but about who still chooses to.

And maybe that’s enough.

This is for everyone that is quietly hurting inside. I hear you.

When the storm stilled

The savings were gone. Every last ringgit, drained to satisfy the relentless demands of the loan sharks. Each payment felt like surrender, a piece of myself slipping away. Yet still, the pressure never ceased.

The police made their quiet calls, firm and methodical, reminding the harassers that lines had been crossed. Old friends moved in the shadows, subtle whispers, veiled warnings no one else could see.

And then… suddenly. As insurmountable as it had seemed, everything stopped.

The calls ceased. The threats vanished. The police were stunned—these people never leave anyone alone. Nobody knew exactly how it happened.

But something shifted. The storm lifted. Silence filled the spaces that had once trembled with fear.

Yet the calm was uneasy. I watched the shadows through my CCTV at home, expecting danger to return at any moment. Every movement outside my window, every flicker of light, made my heart race. Relief was there, yes—but so was the lingering memory of fear, the knowledge that peace could be shattered in an instant.

And still… I remained. Alone in the quiet, but not entirely. The friends who had stepped in, the police who had intervened, and the unseen forces I had prayed to—all had played their part.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the abyss had paused. The darkness receded, if only slightly. And I began to realize that even after the storm, the vigilance, the courage, and the faith we hold are what truly keep us standing.

#in the still of the night #everything stopped

Calling in the shadows

The darkness pressed harder than ever. Debts were cleared, yet the threats didn’t stop. They forced more loans, shoved money down throats that were already raw with fear. Dignity. Self-respect. Peace—gone.

I was running out of options. Every call, every knock at the door, a reminder of what I had lost. In desperation, I reached out to old school friends—those who understood the streets, the codes, the dangers. I called in the police, hoping for protection, for a shield around the family I loved.

And I prayed. Quietly, fervently, asking for guidance, for intervention beyond what I could control. Each prayer was a lifeline, a whispered plea that I wasn’t alone.

It struck me then: even in the deepest darkness, we are never truly alone. Human allies appear when we reach out. Divine forces respond when we surrender our fear and ask for help.

I felt the weight begin to shift, imperceptibly at first. The abyss was still there, looming. But now, I had something to hold onto—support, protection, hope. It didn’t fix everything. It didn’t erase the humiliation or the relentless demands.

But it reminded me that some battles are not fought alone.

#You are alone #Allah is with you #old friends #please help

The abyss of letting go

A week has passed. Time doesn’t heal this—at least, not yet. I stand at the edge of a dark abyss, and it stares back at me. It doesn’t judge, but it reminds me of everything I’ve failed to hold together.

Parents… their quiet hope, now tinged with worry. In-laws… their subtle questions, the weight of unspoken disappointment. My spouse… the shared dreams, fractured by my missteps. Family… all the faces I carry in my chest, now shadows in the void.

I reach out, but the darkness swallows my hands. Alone, I feel the gravity of letting them down. It’s not just a moment of failure—it’s a lingering presence, a hollow echo that whispers: you could have done more.

And yet… the abyss doesn’t just take. It shows me what matters most. What I must face. What I might yet rebuild, one trembling step at a time.

#the abyss #disappointment

When shadows speaks

The shadows stopped hiding. They stepped forward. Not in suits. Not with polite smiles.

They were real. Grim faces. Empty eyes. Hands that expected more than I could give.

The whispers I had felt before became despicable messages. Demands that were impossible. Offers that sounded too sweet to refuse — exactly what I had been searching for. I told myself I could manage the short-term payments.

Calls in the night. Messages I dared not answer but could not ignore. The weight of my desperation had drawn them in — and they thrived on it.

I told myself I could handle it. I could navigate this maze. But the maze was not made for me. It was made for those who feed on fear, on debt, on the quiet unraveling of a life.

I was not in control. I never was.

#fear #deep hole