A GLIMPSE OF LIGHT
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A Glimpse of Light**
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Noya awoke the next morning, the heavy silence of the hospital room pressing down on him. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting pale strips of light across the bed, but it felt distant—just another reminder of the warmth he felt he’d never have.
He shifted slowly, his body aching from weeks of immobility. His mind was still clouded with memories from the accident, the images haunting him in relentless loops. He wished they would fade, that he could return to some semblance of peace, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Every moment felt like a reminder of what he had lost, of what he could never atone for.
The door opened, and the nurse entered, her expression kind but cautious. She walked to his bedside with a gentle smile, placing a glass of water and a small plate of toast on the tray beside him.
“Noya, would you like to go outside again today?” she asked, her tone soft, as if afraid to disrupt the quiet.
He hesitated, the memory of the children playing in the garden fresh in his mind. Their laughter, their happiness—it felt so foreign to him, almost mocking. But something about being out there, even in his state, had made him feel… less alone, if only for a moment.
“Maybe later,” he replied, his voice rough from disuse. “I’m… not ready yet.”
The nurse nodded, understanding. “That’s perfectly fine. Just know that we’re here, whenever you feel up to it.”
As she left the room, Noya’s eyes drifted toward the small bookshelf beside his bed. It held a few donated novels and magazines, likely from past patients who had left them behind. He reached out, selecting a worn book at random, hoping to distract himself.
But as he read, he found his mind drifting, unable to focus on the words in front of him. His thoughts returned to the accident, the moment of impact, and the lives he had taken. The image of the two strangers in the other car haunted him—the knowledge that he had been responsible for their end, that he had stolen the lives of people who were loved, who had families waiting for them. The guilt was suffocating, each breath feeling heavier than the last.
His grip tightened on the book, fingers digging into the worn cover. He wanted so desperately to turn back time, to undo the choices that had led him here. But that was impossible. All he could do was carry the weight of his actions, the guilt pressing down on him like a thousand stones.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the doctor enter until the man cleared his throat gently. Noya looked up, startled, as the doctor offered him a sympathetic nod.
“Noya,” the doctor began, his tone careful, “we’ve had some discussions about your recovery plan. Physically, you’re healing well, but… we believe you might benefit from speaking with someone about what happened. I know it’s difficult, but sometimes sharing the burden can make it lighter.”
Noya shook his head, the idea of opening up feeling like an invasion of his private grief. “I don’t need that,” he replied, his voice hollow. “Nothing can make this better.”
The doctor didn’t push, simply nodding with a quiet understanding. “It’s your choice, Noya. But if you ever feel like talking, we have someone here who’s very good at listening.”
After the doctor left, Noya sank deeper into the bed, the silence of the room growing more oppressive. His thoughts drifted to the parents of the victims, to the families who would never see their loved ones again because of him. He imagined them mourning, their worlds shattered by his recklessness. It was a pain he couldn’t fathom, yet one he felt he deserved.
Unable to bear the stillness, he pushed himself out of bed, ignoring the soreness in his legs. He grabbed his hospital gown and draped it over his shoulders, deciding to go outside after all. Maybe the fresh air would help clear his mind, even if only a little.
As he was wheeled into the garden once more, the sight of the children playing hit him differently today. Instead of envy, he felt a strange, aching hope—an idea that perhaps, one day, he could be free of the pain he carried, that he could find a way to live without the constant weight of his past.
He watched a little girl run by, her laughter echoing in the air, her joy so pure and unburdened. In that moment, he wondered if there could be something beyond the darkness he felt, if maybe, just maybe, there was a way for him to heal.
The thought lingered as he returned to his room, a small spark in the depths of his grief. And though he knew it would be a long, painful journey, he couldn’t ignore the faint whisper of hope that had taken root within him.
As he lay back down, the memory of the accident still haunted him, but now, for the first time, he found himself daring to imagine a future—a future where he might forgive himself, even if the rest of the world never would.
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**To Be Continued...**
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Chapter end
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