Is it real
1365 days. Twenty-seven hours. That’s how long it’s been since I last saw her, and I know it down to the hour because I’ve lived each one of them like a punishment.
I still hear her laugh sometimes—reckless, filling every space like it belonged to her. I still remember the warmth she carried, how it spread without her trying, how people clung to it like moths around a flame. And her eyes… those stupid big brown eyes. Everyone thought they were beautiful, and maybe they were, but I knew the truth: they were hollow. No light in them. And still, I couldn’t look away. They were magnetic—the only thing in the world I wanted staring back at me.
I blinked and realized blood was sliding down my cheek. Again. I’d cut myself shaving—or maybe I pressed too hard on purpose, I don’t know anymore. I muttered something about needing a new razor, tossed it aside, and wrapped a towel around my waist.
The mirror didn’t lie. Same man, same name. But I didn’t recognize him. My face looked carved out, drained, like someone had stolen the only light left in me and left a husk behind.
I thought of the weeks after she disappeared. How I clawed at the world trying to find her. My friends tried to keep me sane, tried to hold me together, but I saw it in their eyes—they were breaking too. She wasn’t just my light, she was theirs. Without her, the group stopped meeting, laughter died, and everything turned gray.
I searched everywhere. Burned through every resource, every connection, every ounce of power I had. And nothing. It was as if she had been erased from the earth itself.
And then I saw her. Or thought I did. Smiling at me from the corner of my bathroom, head tilted, gummy smile wide and teasing like she always did when she wanted me to laugh. My chest cracked open, but I forced a bitter smile. Pills. Just the damn medication again. Hallucinations dressed as hope.
I dressed casually . Blue jeans. White sweater. Black scarf. Hair neat, perfume sprayed. Every detail perfect, as if perfection could convince the world I wasn’t rotting inside. When I opened the door, the cold wind hit me hard, sharp against my skin. I breathed it in until my lungs ached. For a moment, I almost felt alive.
But the moment passed, like they always do. Every day now is slow. Repetitive. A routine done flawlessly: work, home, social obligations. On paper, I’m still the world’s best-ranked hero. But when the sun sets, I lie awake, staring at ceilings, counting hours, praying for sleep that never stays.
I thought the day would blur into another wasted night—until I saw it. In the grocery store, of all places. Her snack. The one she used to eat every day, religiously. And then a hand reached for it. A girl’s hand. Same height. Same build. Adrenaline hit .
I froze. My blood throbbed. From behind she looked like her. Not the same hair, not the same scent—but my instincts roared. It was her. It had to be.
I chased her. Heart racing so hard I couldn’t tell if I was alive or dreaming. The world blurred as I pushed through people. She vanished too quickly. My lungs burned, my legs shook, but I didn’t stop. And then—eyes.
Those eyes. Brown, endless, and looking right at me. They met mine and pierced straight through. But this time they had a spark in them, a light that wasn’t there before.
And then she looked away.
My chest split open. Didn’t she recognize me? Didn’t she care? It was her. I knew it was her. I shouted her name, voice breaking, frantic. People stared at me like I was a lunatic, but I didn’t care. Let them think I was insane. I couldn’t lose her. Not again.
I pushed through the crowd until my legs nearly gave out, but she was gone. The air tasted like ashes.
A police officer approached, eyes wide with recognition. To the world, I’m still composed. Still respected. The perfect hero. He asked if I was alright, and I forced composure into my voice. “I’m fine.” A lie. I described her anyway, every detail etched into my skull. “If you see her, call me. Immediately.”
Back home, i was so desperate, the hope i got vanished in minutes infront of my eyes— like always , I collapsed onto the bed without even changing. My body shut down, and sleep pulled me under.
The dream was the same. She stood on the edge of the highest tower in the city, smiling at me with eyes too calm for someone about to fall. She’d achieved everything—first-ranked, honored, adored. But still, she chose to drink the poison. Still, she fell. And I, useless, frozen, screaming with lungs that couldn’t carry far enough to save her. I always wake before I reach her. Always.
I woke gasping, drenched in sweat. My throat raw, my chest on fire. I stumbled to the balcony, lit a cigarette. She hated smokers. She used to wrinkle her nose at me, tease me, tell me to quit. But now it’s the only thing that cuts through the noise. The only thing that quiets the constant loop of her face in my mind.
Why can’t I let her go? Why does every breath I take feel chained to her?
The phone rang. Tomas Hale . The detective. My only hope.
“News?” My voice sounded like gravel.
“We’ve got something. A woman resembling Miss Eliana. Different identity. Registered at the Grand Hotel. Room 225.”
The words ignited me. I was already in the air before the call ended.
And then—I saw her. Stepping into a taxi, hair catching the streetlight. My pulse shattered. It was her. I followed. I couldn’t breathe until she stopped—in front of an old palace , deserted and looming.
“Eliana!” I screamed her name, my voice cracking against the night.
She turned. Her eyes widened when they met mine. And then—she ran.
I chased her into the palace . Moonlight bled through broken windows, painting the floor in silver. Cold air filled my lungs. Her footsteps echoed above me. I whispered her name into the dark like a prayer.
The massive door at the top creaked open. Light spilled out. Voices ringing in my head . Her voice. And a man’s.
I edged closer, every nerve stretched to breaking. Peeked inside—and the world spun.
Eliana. In a royal gown, as if ripped from history. And him—Prince Eric , she calls him. draped in some medieval costume .His face burned into me as though I’d known him before. They fought, voices clashing.
“ you are killing innocent people. ” she shouted.
“They deserve it. And, You will not question me” His words boomed.
Her voice stayed restrained , tight, the way fire sounds before it breaks free.
She leaned closer, pointing, the questions cutting instead of rising, furious, heartbroken.
“Why would you? After everything they’ve done? After supporting you , and putting al their trust on you? Why? Why would you end their lives?? What did those innocent followers do? Daniel should’ve ruled instead of you ” she pressed through clenched teeth.
“Don’t you dare say his name in my presence! Daniel—Daniel—always Daniel! Do you think I didn’t see the way you looked at him? The way everyone looked at him? They adored him, worshipped him, bowed to him. And me? I was the shadow, wasn’t I?”
He spat the words out . he yanks her closer, his voice shaking between rage and despair
“I am the one who holds the crown. I took what was mine, what I earned. Yet still you whisper his name, still you dream of him, still you look at me with those eyes that never belonged to me!”
With a sudden deranged burst of anger he threw her like a maniac . The sound of her body striking the floor tore through me like shrapnel. My throat ripped open, I screamed her name ,but they couldn’t hear me. No one could.
Eric towered over her, madness gleaming in his eyes. His words lashed like a whip
“And what of the child in your belly? Tell me Eliana, Whose it? Mine….. or his. ”
She clutched her stomach, tears cutting down her cheeks, voice breaking.
“Yours . I swear on my life i never betrayed you. PLEASE—please , if you won’t believe me , then leave me, i promise you wouldn’t hear my voice until i give birth , but don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt our child! “
His face twisted, half doubt, half fury. He spat on the ground, snarling for the guards.
“ Throw her in the dungeon , let her rot till she admits the truth”
I screamed her name until my throat tore, but she didn’t hear me. My legs buckled, and I collapsed on the cold floor, shaking, drenched in sweat. Gasping for air . It was too real. Too real to be just a dream.
When the door slammed open again, the palace empty, I stumbled out into the night air. My phone blinked with twelve missed calls. Tomas again.
I called him back, forcing steadiness into my voice.
“She’s gone,” he said. “The woman left the hotel. Disappeared.”
I swallowed hard. “Then find me everything about the famous abandoned palace. And about a prince called Eric.”
The drive home was silent. The images replayed in my mind, every detail sharp, every scream still echoing.
And for my arabic readers here is a poet of how Noah feels seeing Eliana’s eyes.
لا السيفُ يفعلُ بي ما أنتِ
فاعلةٌ
ولا لقاء عدوي مثل لقياكِ
لو بات سهم من الاعداء في كبدي
ما نال مني ما نالتهُ عيناكِ.
Translation for my English readers
No sword has ever done to me
what you have done.
Nor has meeting my enemy
ever been like meeting you.
Even if an enemy’s arrow were to spend the night in my liver,
it would not wound me
the way your eyes have.
