Should I live her way, or should I live his way, or should I live their way, or should I live God’s way, or above all this, should I live my way? I asked myself as a forsaken eight-year-old, inside a house filled with expectations. I hated everyone for putting all their expectations on me. A normal, happy life—that's what the little me wanted—not a life filled with the burden of carrying all those expectations.

I’m not a supposititious person, it is a gamble to believe it or not, but people say that there is one entity, high up in the sky, hiding in the dark, or is part of the darkness. They say the entity can see and hear anything, and it looks at humans with great curiosity. There are times when you can wish for something when it is looking at you and the entity grants the wish. Maybe it's an ancient God? maybe a remnant from an ancient past? nobody knows, but one thing that is for sure is, that it comes with a warning: the entity doesn’t differ as well as humans do, so the wishes that he grants can also be curses based on what you ask for.

That night, I looked up at the sky and wished; I wished that my family would disappear and I could finally live my life as I wanted to. And it got granted—just not how I wanted it to be...

"Run, Nchum! Run!", As the bullets from their old pistols whizzed right past my ears, I didn’t know at that time that I would hear from my mother for the last time. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. Even though I was always a lazy boy who never helped in the house, I don’t know how, but my legs never got tired, and I just ran.

When I did tire, I looked down and noticed that I had just lost a toenail, but I couldn't feel it! I couldn’t feel the pain that day. Because he knew what lay ahead for me, perhaps God had mercy on me that day and spared me the misery of a missing toenail. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I turned to look back at my house and saw it engulfed in a massive blaze. I was so shocked that I couldn't even think about what to do next. "Should I return? "Should I just keep moving forward? "Is my mom still alive?" I kept having a lot of different notions, but in the end, I decided to go back.

As I reached my house, just a mere block away, somebody pulled me into the dark corner of the road while covering my mouth so that I couldn’t scream. I was scared to my core. Forget about screaming. I couldn’t even move an inch. I thought I was captured and would be killed, so I started to pray, as that was the only thing I could do at that time. But suddenly I heard a familiar voice, and I turned my head up to see that it was our family priest, Father Anto. Tears started to fall from my eyes, and I started to cry. No, I was not merely crying; I was bawling in his arms. He then wiped my tears from my cheeks and carried me to the school chapel, which was on the hilltop. He carried me with the utmost care, looking around for anyone, be it a friend or foe. When we reached the chapel, he put me down and asked me to wait for him, but I was too shaken and afraid, so I held him tightly, asking him to stay with me. He then pulled me up, assured me that everything was okay, and asked me to pray while he came back. I obeyed and started to pray for the safety of my family, and just as I got over with my prayer, Father Anto came with a warm cup of tea, some biscuits, and a warm blanket as I was very cold, which I didn’t notice but he did.

The shivering began as I held the warm cup of tea in my hands. After seeing this, Father Anto quickly covered me with the warm blanket and prepared to rub the soles of my feet, shortly before he saw how injured I was. Then he yelled with his soft voice, "You should have told me that you were injured!" and he walked out to his office to retrieve the first aid kit. He returned with the first aid kit after about ten minutes of waiting, treated my wound by removing and washing the dirt that had seeped into the wound, and then began to apply the ointment. I tried to move my foot, but he yanked it back and told me to endure the pain for the time being. The ointment was quite painful. He was able to properly treat the wound after a few minutes of rushing around with the bandages, but because of the extensive use of bandages, my toe felt like a tiny potato. Father Anto glanced at it and said, "Well, that will take care of it for the time being," before turning back to me and asking whether I had any more injuries in my body and telling me not to lie about it and to be honest. I told him no and gave him my sincere thanks for what he had done. After hearing that, he appeared a little more at ease and sat down in the chair directly across from mine. He then picked up his cup of tea, took a sip, and told me to take my rest for the time being.

I, however, could not afford to have the luxury of sleeping through what was taking place. I sat up straight and asked Father about the horror I had just witnessed and was currently living through. He looked at me, said, "Listen, Chimpo, we should talk about it in the morning, so for now, take some rest," and took another sip of his tea before setting the cup down on the table. But I could not wait till morning, so I immediately asked him again, my eyes welling up with sorrow, if my family were safe. As soon as I finished speaking, I started to cry once more. Father Anto noticed that I was crying and got up from his chair to hug me and reassure me that everything was fine. He also advised me to get some rest because if I didn't, my body would become weak, which is the last thing either my parents or I would want to happen. Those remarks from Father struck a chord with me; perhaps it was because of how protective my parents were of my health, or perhaps it was the thought of my parents being sad. I agreed and decided to sleep inside the chapel. Father then assured me before I went to sleep that he would be with me the entire night and that I should call him, even if he was sleeping if I needed anything. Okay, I nodded. I then said one last prayer with Father before going to bed.

"Yeah! When I arrived that morning to remove the candle wax from the altar, I remember seeing you asleep inside the chapel," stated Lichan. "Father Anto had asked me not to wake you up that day."

"Lichan! Don't interrupt, Nchum!" Moanungla yelled, trying to shrug off Lichan's interruption.

She then said, "You can continue with your story, Nchum," before turning to face him.

After giving a small nod, Nchum was just about to continue with his story when his eyes caught sight of the clock that was mounted inside their classroom. Then, quickly checking the screen of his phone, he pulled it out. He notices a notification, and it is enough for him to figure out the person who sent it. In the same hurry with which he had taken the phone out, he also put it back into his pocket. "Let's continue with the story another time; it appears that I forgot about her," he muttered, loud enough to be heard and turning back to his friends with a little paleness in his cheeks, a drip of sweat, and a sign of hurry in his brows.

Moanungla was not happy to hear that, since she wanted to hear more of his story. She glared at Lichan and struck him, thinking that if it weren't for his interruption, she would have likely heard the entire story and wouldn't have been left with the emptiness of an incomplete story. As silly as he could be, Lichan began to mock her while acting as though the blow had injured him. But the jeers only made matters worse.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Moa picked up the thick hardcover book from her bag and began to follow Lichan, who had already started to flee from her when he saw her pick it up. She then turned to Nchum and asked him to finish the story another time, perhaps over a cup of tea, and not to make her wait too long.

When he saw them running around the classroom, Nchum smiled as he headed out for the college canteen, where he had kept someone waiting.

"Yes, the sandwiches and a cup of orange cola." As she was ordering her lunch, she heard someone from her backside say, "Order some for me too, Sofia."

"You should have come early if you wanted to eat; now you have to stand in line, Nchum," she adds before turning back to face him, rage written all over her face.

He flinches a little at the sight of her angry face, attempting to come up with a good enough reason to get him out of it. He gulps and replies, "I was busy with my classwork, Sofia."

Sofia crosses her arms tightly across her chest as her eyes narrow and her anger is still visible. She responds, "Classwork?" with a tone of skepticism in her voice. "You mean to tell me that your classwork was more important than keeping your word to be on time?" Her tone is sharp, leaving no room for excuses.

Her lips are twisting into a scowl as he watches her brows wrinkle even further. Her rage seems to build in intensity, and he senses the weight of her disappointment. Sofia's gaze pierced through his, requiring a quick explanation from him.

His thoughts whirl as he frantically looks for a solid defense that could calm her growing anger.

"There was unexpected classwork, and the professor required us to finish it... I could not simply leave," he stammers, beading sweat on his brow.

He makes an effort to keep eye contact, but he can feel the seriousness of his words settling in. He worries that the justification might falter in the face of her scrutiny since it feels flimsy and weak. His anxiety is increased by Sofia's quietness, and her penetrating gaze lingers on him.

Sofia's face briefly displays disappointment as she mingles it with her lingering rage. Before speaking, she takes a big breath and tries to gather herself.

She then replies, her voice tinged with anguish and vulnerability, "Nchum, I understand the importance of your studies, but it hurts when you prioritize them over our plans."

He then reaches out gently, attempting to bridge the emotional chasm that has formed between them. "Sofia, I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to ignore our plans. I'll make it up to you, I promise," he pleads, hoping for a chance to make amends.

The harsh look on Sofia's face gradually relaxes as a glimmer of understanding replaces her earlier expression of rage.

She takes a moment to collect her thoughts before responding, and her voice softens with a touch of compassion. "Nchum, I appreciate your apology, but why are you always like this?" As soon as he realizes that her tone has changed somewhat to one of understanding, he feels relieved. Determined to mend their bond, Nchum nods earnestly. "You're right, Sofia. From now on, I'll always be on time and ensure that I prioritize our time together."

A faint smile plays at the corners of Sofia's lips, a sign that forgiveness is within reach. "Well, you still have to wait in the queue for your food," she replies with a smile as she reaches out to the corner to pick up her order.

Nchum answers with a sheepish look, "You're right. So why not simply give me some of your food instead?

Sofia's grin gets bigger as her rage grows less intense. She teasingly says, "I'm not sharing anything with you!”

After finishing the food, Nchum decides to drop her off at the bus stop. It might have been an effort to make up for his earlier tardiness or to spend a little more time with Sofia, but at that moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. He offers Sofia a ride after removing the bike's keys.

As Sofia glances at him, a glint of amusement appears in her eyes. She asks jokingly, "Are you trying to make up for being late by giving me a ride?"

Nchum blushes slightly, feeling caught up in his intentions. "Well, maybe a little," he admits, a sheepish smile forming on his face.

Sofia chuckles, accepting his offer. "Alright then, lazy boy. I'll take you up on that ride."

They both hop onto the bike, with Nchum navigating through the bustling streets. The cool wind brushes against their faces as they enjoy the ride, exchanging light-hearted banter along the way.

As they approach the bus stop, Nchum slows down and brings the bike to a gentle stop. Sofia gets off, her eyes filled with gratitude and warmth.

All would have ended well if not for the fighting they were just about to witness.

Just across the street, opposite the bus stand, was a shop where a brawl had just started between a drunk customer and the owner of the shop. The shop owner was a middle-aged man with disheveled hair and a tired expression on his face, while the customer was a burly man with bloodshot eyes and an aggressive stance. The air was tense, and the sounds of shouting and crashing objects filled the air.

Nchum and Sofia exchanged concerned glances as they realized the gravity of the situation unfolding before them. It was clear that the situation could quickly escalate into something dangerous. Sofia instinctively reached for her phone to call for help, but before she could dial the emergency number, a group of bystanders gathered around, trying to intervene and defuse the conflict.

Nchum, driven by a sense of responsibility, parked his bike and rushed towards the commotion. Sofia, worried for his safety, followed closely behind. As they approached, they noticed the shop owner desperately trying to protect his items while fending off the intoxicated customer's attacks.

Without hesitation, Nchum stepped in between them, using his presence to create a momentary pause in the chaos. Sofia stood beside him, ready to offer support in any way she could. With a calm but authoritative voice, Nchum tried to reason with the drunken customer, but to no avail since he was too drunk to even speak any words with intelligence in them. He then turned to the owner and asked him why they were fighting. It seems that the drunk guy came and asked for a pack of cigarettes, but after he received them, he refused to pay for them and started to challenge the owner for asking him to pay for the cigarettes.

The people that had previously gathered around to stop the fight were now getting ready to trash him. The customer, being a non-native, acted as the catalyst for their anger. They were angry, as how could someone from outside come to their place and fight with someone of their own? Nchum, knowing full well that it wouldn’t end well for the drunken customer, tried to talk it out. But it seemed like it was already decided among the people to teach the guy a well-deserved lesson and were just about to start when, luckily, the police arrived. They came in with their huge, well-oiled, massaged wooden sticks and cleared the crowd that had just gathered around the drunken customer. The customer, still unable to even stand straight, was carried by the police and taken back with them. The crowd started to disperse as the sound of the police siren grew dimmer and dimmer as it carried away the drunken.

The bus that Sofia was waiting for had also just arrived. She got on the bus, said her goodbyes for the day, and went back home. As he too was getting ready to go back home, Nchum heard two old men who had watched the whole scene from behind at the bus stop.

“Nowadays, this place is filled with only non-locals.”

“Yeah, you are right. Everywhere I go, it’s all filled up with those people from the plains.”

“They don’t even show respect to us anymore!”

“True, we let them come and settle here in our land, and they think that they own this land now.”

“If nothing is done, then in the future we will be the minority in our ancestral land!"

Nchum started his bike and made his way back home, but as he was traveling, he could not forget the conversation he had just witnessed between the two old men. Something seemed to have awakened inside him.