A Voice from Beyond- Suicide isn’t the end—it’s the silence we must break.
Story: S A Spencer
They taught the machine to feel—before it replaced them.
Author of Popular Fictions: The Pink Mutiny, The Black Waters, Dream In Shackles
🕊️ The Room I Never
Left
I don’t remember the moment my
breath stopped. I remember the silence before it. The way the walls closed in,
the way my heart felt like it was folding in on itself. I remember the sound of
my children laughing in the living room, unaware that their world was about to
change forever.
I’m not sure where I am now. It’s
quiet here. Not the kind of quiet that hurts—but the kind that listens. There’s
no pain, no time. Just memory. And regret.
I watch them sometimes. My
children. Aarav and Meera. Seven and five. Aarav still sleeps with the blanket
I stitched for him when he was three. Meera talks to my photo every morning
before school. She tells me what she’s wearing, what she packed for lunch. She
asks if I’m proud.
I am. But I wish I could tell her
that.
🌅 The Morning Before
It was a Tuesday. I remember
because the kids had swimming lessons that evening. I had packed their bags the
night before, laid out their clothes, and made sure their towels were dry. I
was always that kind of mother—organized, loving, maybe a little too devoted.
My world revolved around them. And him.
Ravi was working from home. He
had been distant lately, but I thought it was stress. Deadlines. Maybe even
burnout. I made his tea just the way he liked it—strong, no sugar, a hint of
cardamom. He barely looked up when I placed it on his desk.
Then he called me into the room.
“I need to talk to you,” he said,
not unkindly. “I’ve met someone. I’m in love with her. I want a divorce.”
I blinked. I thought I misheard.
I waited for the punchline, the apology, the explanation. But there was none.
He turned back to his laptop, as if he’d just told me the weather.
I walked out of the room. I
didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t ask why.
🕯️ The Decision
I sat on the edge of the bed,
staring at the floor. My mind raced through images—our wedding, the birth of
our children, the nights I stayed up with fevers and nightmares, the mornings I
packed lunchboxes while he slept in. I thought of the woman he loved. Was she
prettier? Smarter? Did she know he had two children who adored him?
I felt invisible. Erased.
And then, I made a decision. Not
out of anger. Not even out of despair. It was more like surrender. Like I was
stepping out of a story that no longer had a place for me.
I don’t want to describe what
happened next. That part isn’t important. What matters is that I was found.
Alive. For a moment.
Ravi called the ambulance. The neighbours
came. The children were taken to my sister’s house. I was rushed to the
hospital.
I died two hours later.
🌌 The Aftermath
I watched my funeral. It was
small. Quiet. My mother wept uncontrollably. My father didn’t speak. Aarav
clung to Ravi’s leg, asking when I’d come back. Meera kept asking why I didn’t
say goodbye.
Ravi looked hollow. He didn’t
speak to anyone. He didn’t cry. But I saw the guilt in his eyes. The kind that
never leaves.
I saw the woman he loved. She
didn’t come to the funeral. She never met the children. She left him a month
later.
I saw Ravi break. Slowly.
Quietly. He stopped working. Stopped eating. He started sleeping on the couch.
He told the kids I had gone to heaven. Meera asked if heaven had swings.
🌱 The Realization
I thought death would bring
peace. But it brought clarity.
I saw what I left behind. Not
just the children—but the life I could have rebuilt. The strength I didn’t know
I had. The friends who would have held me. The therapist who would have
listened. The books I never read. The places I never travelled. The love I
might have found again.
I saw women like me—betrayed,
broken, but still breathing. I saw them rise. I saw them laugh again. I saw
them fall in love again. I saw them become more than what they lost.
And I wished I had waited. Just one more day.
📣 To You, Reading This
If you’re hurting, I see you.
If you feel erased, I hear you.
If you think the pain will never
end, I promise—it will.
You are not alone. You are not
weak. You are not defined by someone else’s choices.
There is help. There is hope.
There is healing.
Stay.
For your children. For your
future. For yourself.
Stay.
Because one day, you’ll look back
and be grateful you did.
S A Spencer- I will bring more stories for your entertainment. Please follow me on Facebook and Twitter so that you know when a new story comes.
Do you like this story? Let your friends also read this.
Download this thriller -FREE for a limited time
Comments
Post a Comment