Pretend

                    

Sometimes the quietest minds are the loudest within.

Introduction

He walks through the world like a shadow—present, yet unnoticed. He listens more than he speaks. He sees, but never tells. To the outside world, he seems distant, disinterested, maybe even rude. But within him lies a mind that never stops thinking, questioning, and imagining.

This is not the story of a hero, nor a villain. This is the story of a boy who pretends to understand everything, but truly understands nothing. He is a wanderer in his own mind, a puzzle that even he can’t solve.

No one knows who he really is. Not even himself.

Until the very end.

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Full Story

He sat at the last bench—every day, every class, every semester. His seat was more than a place. It was a boundary. The invisible line that kept people away from the storm brewing inside him.

He didn’t hate people. He just didn’t see the point in shallow conversations. “How are you?” felt like static to him. “Nice weather today,” was worse.

He only spoke when he had to. Even then, his words were trimmed, precise—almost surgical. His classmates called him “The Ghost.” Some feared him, others ignored him. Teachers didn’t bother asking him questions. They assumed he didn’t care.

But he did. More than anyone could imagine.

In his mind, he created worlds—alternate versions of reality. In his dreams, he traveled to places that didn’t exist. And in those dreams, everything felt real.

He once dreamed of a flood that swallowed his school. The next day, the water tank burst, flooding the corridors.

He once dreamed of a red notebook catching fire. Two weeks later, someone accidentally set a red book ablaze during a chemistry experiment.

Coincidence? Maybe. But he began to believe in the absurd. That maybe his mind knew something others didn’t.

Still, when people tried to talk to him, he hesitated. What could he say that would make sense? How could he explain dreams that whispered secrets?

He wasn’t lonely. He was just... unsure. Unsure if what he knew was real. Or just illusions pretending to be truth.

There were a few who tried to connect. A girl once offered him a chocolate. He looked at her, said nothing, and walked away. Not because he didn’t like her gesture—but because in his mind, he had already had that conversation a hundred times before. And it always ended with disappointment.

Years passed. He grew older, wiser perhaps. But he never changed.

Until one night.

It was raining. He sat on the rooftop, watching droplets dance on the edge. A stranger approached—a woman in a yellow raincoat. She said nothing. Just handed him a letter and left.

The letter read:

“You pretend to know the world, but the world knows nothing about you.
You live in the in-between—half awake, half asleep.
When you’re ready to be, not just pretend, come find me.
– E.”

He stared at the letter. E. The initial felt too personal, too familiar. He flipped it over. Nothing else. No address. No name.

He didn’t sleep that night. He didn’t dream either. For the first time in years, his mind was still.

He stood in front of the mirror the next morning. Noticed the way his eyes darted, the way his mouth twitched before thoughts turned to silence.

He whispered to himself for the first time in years, “Who am I?”

And for once, the answer came.

“I am Eshwik.”

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The End

Pretend wasn’t just what he did. It was who he was—until he chose to stop pretending.