"Mom, please don't throw these away," Kumuni pleaded, her eyes wide with desperation. Her mother's eyebrows furrowed as she glanced at the pile of dusty tomes and star-speckled notebooks. "They're just... stories, Kumuni. They're not real. Focus on your maths."

Her mother's voice was firm, yet not unkind. Kumuni knew she was right; the universe's secrets weren't hidden in her childish scribbles about alien languages and interstellar travel. But the dream she had the night before was so vivid. Two translucent figures standing before her, nodding in approval as she recited complex equations in her head. It was a strange and eerie encounter that had left her feeling both terrified and exhilarated.

Kumuni took a deep breath and nodded. She had to prove that math wasn't just numbers on a page but the very fabric that held the cosmos together. With newfound resolve, she sat down at her desk, her eyes drifting to the shelf above where her beloved science fiction novels were now hidden away. Her gaze fell upon her math textbook, and she felt a peculiar sensation, as if it were humming with hidden knowledge.

After her homework was done, she sat on her bed and began to meditate. The technique she had read about in her secret stash of books was supposed to help her control her dreams. She focused on her breathing, inhaling the faint scent of her mother's incense that lingered in the air, and pictured the two alien figures standing before her.

In the quiet darkness of her room, she could almost feel their presence again. They were beckoning her to solve the ultimate equation that would reveal the universe's deepest secrets. Her heart raced as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to slip into the abyss of sleep. The numbers danced around in her mind, swirling into patterns she hadn't seen before.

The digits grew larger and more complex, forming a maze of mathematical symbols. Kumuni navigated through them with a newfound confidence, knowing that the key to unlocking the cosmic code was within her grasp. She saw π and e, the fundamental constants of the universe, whispering to her in a language she hadn't yet understood. The Fibonacci sequence unfurled before her, a golden path leading to infinity.

Suddenly, the numbers coalesced into a dazzling display of light, and the two translucent figures from her dream materialized. They nodded in unison, their eyes glowing with an otherworldly intelligence that seemed to pierce through Kumuni's soul. She knew they had been watching her progress, guiding her through the labyrinth of her mind.

With a start, Kumuni woke up to the sound of her mother's gentle voice. The sun was peeking through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. The scent of chai and toast wafted in from the kitchen, a comforting reminder of her earthly existence. She sat up in bed, her mind buzzing with the revelations of her dream.

But as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, something felt... off. She walked over to her desk and picked up her math textbook, flipping it open to a random page. Her eyes scanned the equations, but instead of the familiar comfort of numbers, she felt a cold dread seep into her bones. What was 2x2? It was right there, on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't remember. Panic began to set in.

Her heart pounding in her chest, she tried to recall the multiplication table, but her mind was a jumbled mess. What was 4x3? The answer eluded her, as if she had never learned it. She felt faint, the room spinning around her. Her mother rushed in at the sound of her distress, her eyes wide with concern.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Kumuni, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Her mother's voice snapped her out of her daze. She stared at the textbook in her trembling hands, the numbers blurring before her eyes. "Mom, I can't... I can't remember. What's the secret of the universe?"

Her mother's expression shifted from concern to confusion. "What are you talking about, Kumuni?"

With a trembling hand, she pointed at the textbook. "The numbers... I can't remember them. It's like they're slipping away."

Her mother took a step back, her eyes widening. "What do you mean, you can't remember?"

But before she could answer, Kumuni burst into laughter. It started as a giggle, then grew into a full-bodied guffaw that seemed to fill the room. It was a laugh that didn't belong to her, one that sounded almost... inhuman. Her mother's expression turned to horror as she watched her daughter's eyes roll back in her head and her body convulse with the force of her mirth.

Kumuni's mother, her eyes filled with a blend of pity and hope, walked through the stark corridors of the Central Mental Hospital, the stale scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Her footsteps echoed in the emptiness, each one a silent plea for the last year to have been a terrible dream. The walls were painted in a shade of off-white that was supposed to be soothing, but instead, it mirrored the bleakness that had seeped into their lives. She held onto the plastic bag filled with familiar items from home – a favorite sweater, a book of Sudoku puzzles, and a photo of the two of them, smiling and oblivious to the future.

Entering the visitation room, she found Kumuni sitting in a chair by the window, staring blankly at the courtyard below. The girl she had raised, so bright and full of potential, now reduced to a shadow of herself. She had lost weight, and her once vibrant eyes were now dull and clouded. The doctor had explained that the lucid dreams had triggered something within her, something that had fractured her grasp on reality. Every day since that fateful night, she had been plagued by the inexplicable fear that she could no longer perform the simplest of mathematical tasks. The sight of numbers had become a source of dread rather than delight.

Her mother set the bag down on the small table between them and took a seat. She reached out to hold Kumuni's hand, the warmth of her touch a stark contrast to the coldness of the institutional furniture. "How are you feeling today?" she asked, her voice filled with the gentle concern of a thousand unspoken words. Kumuni looked up, a flicker of recognition lighting up her eyes, and then she spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "Mom, what's 2x2?" The question was so innocent, so simple, and yet it was a stark reminder of the insidious grip that the universe's secret had on her mind.

Her mother's eyes grew wet with unshed tears, but she managed to force a smile. "It's four, sweetie. It's always been four." Kumuni nodded, but the doubt remained etched into her furrowed brow. "But what if it isn't?" she murmured, her voice trembling. "What if the numbers have changed?"

The months that followed were a blur of doctor's appointments, therapy sessions, and a revolving door of medications. Yet, Kumuni's condition only seemed to worsen. The simple act of counting out her pills for the day would leave her in a cold sweat, the numbers swirling in her mind like a kaleidoscope of doubt. Her mother watched helplessly as her daughter's mental health deteriorated, each failed attempt to perform basic math a painful reminder of the vibrant young woman she used to be.

The nurses grew accustomed to her daily inquiries about the most elementary of equations. "What is 2x2?" she would ask, her voice a mix of hope and dread, as if the answer could somehow set her free from the prison of her own thoughts. They would reply with practiced patience, "It's four, Kumuni. It's always been four." But their words did little to ease her mind. She was trapped in a world where numbers had lost their meaning, where the very fabric of reality felt as if it were unraveling before her eyes.

Her mother, unable to bear the pain of watching her daughter's struggle, began to question the very nature of the universe itself. Was it possible that the secrets she had studied had been right in front of them all along, hidden in plain sight within the very structure of existence? The idea was as terrifying as it was fascinating. It consumed her, driving her to seek out any scrap of knowledge that might explain what was happening to Kumuni.

The secrets of the universe often hide in plain sight, nestled in the fabric of our daily lives, waiting to be discovered by those who dare to question the obvious. The secrets of the universe are beneath and within but who tries to find it, it finds them.