Shattered Dreams & Hidden Fates

Samantha Carter woke before dawn. The old refrigerator hummed softly, mixing with her mother’s quiet cough—a sound that reminded them daily of hard times and the constant struggle to make ends meet.

As Samantha pulled on her faded sweater, her mother rested in a rocking chair in the kitchen.

“Mama, I have to leave now. I’ll be back before dinner,” Samantha said gently, zipping up her backpack.

Her mother smiled weakly. “Be careful, sweetheart. Remember, don’t worry too much about anything,” she replied, her voice soft but laced with worry. This small conversation was one of the few moments of warmth in a morning filled with daily burdens.

Stepping into the cold morning air, Samantha spotted their landlord just arriving, already at the door. Samantha's heart rose, knowing what brought him.

"Good morning, landlord," she greeted politely.

The man frowned, shaking his head. "The only thing that would make this morning good is if your parents finally decided to give me my money, right now."

His voice was firm, and Samantha felt a wave of anxiety settle in her chest.

"Where is your father?" he asked, glancing toward the house. "I came early so I could meet him at home. Where is he?"

Samantha kept her voice steady. "He just stepped out a few minutes ago," she replied.

The landlord sighed impatiently. "Fine. Let me see your mother then."

Samantha hesitated. "She’s not home," she said quickly. "She went to visit her parents yesterday and hasn’t come back yet."

She hated lying, but with her mother unwell, she couldn’t let this situation add to her suffering. Not now. Not when she was already struggling.

The landlord eyed her for a moment, then gave a short nod. "Alright, I’ll be back. Just let them know I came. Tell them to send my money—or I’ll return a second time."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Samantha standing there, her heart pounding, the weight of the situation pressing harder than ever.

Despite everything, a spark inside her whispered that one day her struggles would not be in vain.

At the university, she was their class coordinator, the campus buzzed with hope and possibilities.

As Samantha walked through the campus walkway. She brought out a worn-out photograph from her backpack, its colors faded. But the image was still clear—the young boy, no older than six, with a bright, carefree smile.

Her heart tightened as she gently touched the fragile paper. A deep ache rose in her chest. She swallowed and whispered, 'Where are you? Why did you leave us?'

as she saw Rebecca, her coursemate mate coming, and she quickly put it back into her bag. 

“Morning, Samantha! Big day today, huh?” Rebecca asked with a smiling tone.

“Yes,” Samantha replied quietly, “I just hope everything goes well. Sometimes, it feels like life is too heavy to carry.”

“I know. But you always manage to keep going. That’s what makes you special,” Rebecca encouraged, and Samantha managed a small, grateful smile.

As soon as Rebecca left, she brought out the picture again and stared at it, ‘assuming you were here, may be life wouldn’t have been difficult as it is now,’ she said

Her brother, the boy who had become nothing more than a distant memory in their family. He had been taken when he was just a child, disappearing without a trace, leaving only pain and unanswered questions. No one truly knew what had happened to him. Some said he was gone forever, while others whispered that he was alive, that he might have built a life far from the family, somewhere that nobody knew.

Samantha gripped her backpack strap, her jaw tightening. The uncertainty weighed on her, pressing against her heart. Was he out there? Had he moved on, never looking back? Or had fate swallowed him completely?

Even though no one spoke of him anymore, Samantha refused to let go of hope. Deep down, she believed that one day, she would find the answers; either alive or gone."

And though he remains, stories. Samantha clung to the glimmer of hope they offered.

The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. A group of students brushed past, their presence reminding her that life moved forward, with or without answers. She exhaled slowly, letting the cool air soothe her restless mind. Regardless of what had been told about his lost brother, she refused to believe he was entirely gone.

Samantha stepped into their small home, the air heavy with the scent of herbal remedies and the faint echo of her mother’s persistent cough. She set down her bag, pushing away the wave of exhaustion from the long day.

'Good evening, Mum,' she said softly, approaching the frail figure resting on the worn-out couch.

Her mother turned her head slightly, offering a weak smile. 'Good evening, my daughter. You’re back from school. How was your lecture today?'

'It was fine, Mum,' Samantha replied, forcing a light tone, then started, 'Mum, on my way back, I saw—'

She stopped, pressing her lips together.

Her mother’s tired eyes flickered with concern. 'You saw who?'

Samantha shook her head and smiled, pushing aside the thoughts that weighed heavily on her heart. 'Never mind, Mum. It’s nothing. Let me prepare something for you so you can take your medicine.'

She turned toward the small kitchen, her movements steady, deliberate. She didn’t want to burden her mother with the matters of the family situation now, not when her strength was already slipping away. Some truths, she decided, were best left unsaid. At least for now."

Samantha felt the need to call her father to inform him of what she wanted to tell her mother before. She pulled out her phone and took a deep, steadying breath before dialing his number. After a few rings, his familiar, warm greeting filled her ear.

"Hello, Daddy." Her voice sounded a little urgent.

"Hello, dear. How are you?" his voice replied gently.

"I'm fine, Dad." She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "Dad, have you settled things with the landlord as promised? It’s already a new month..."

There was a brief, tense silence on the line. Then his tone became serious and a bit sharper. "He came?" he asked.

Samantha felt a knot tighten in her stomach. "Yes, Dad. He came this early this morning, but I saw him close by on my way home from school.’’

There was another pause before her father spoke again, this time with a clear warning:

"Listen carefully, Samantha. Please lock the door from inside. Just in case he comes, don’t open it. Don’t even answer him—just let it be as if no one is home."

Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she replied, "Okay, Dad." With his words echoing in her mind, she hurried to the front door and double-checked the lock, making sure it was secure.

For a few quiet minutes, Samantha tried to calm her racing thoughts. The apartment felt unusually still, and she recalled her father’s urgent instructions many times. But just as she began to relax, a sudden sound shattered the silence.

The doorbell rang—loud and insistent. The noise startled her, and in the moment of shock, the careful warning her father had given her slipped away from her mind. Without thinking, she called out, "Please hold on, I’m coming!" Her voice rang loudly across the quiet room.

As the sound of her own words faded, reality slowly came back to her. Standing there in front of the locked door, Samantha suddenly remembered her father’s clear instructions. Her heart pounded. She felt a wave of panic and confusion as the doorbell rang again, each chime echoing around the room as if demanding attention.

Slowly, she stepped back from the door, her hand hovering in mid-air where she had almost reached for the handle. The memory of her father’s warning—lock the door and do not answer— still settled in her mind. Samantha felt torn, standing motionless as the weight of her decision pressed down on her. She had already answered, her voice loud and clear, and now, whoever was at the door had surely heard her. There was no going back.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, making the room feel colder. Her mind raced with questions—Who was at the door? Was it the landlord?

Had she just made a mistake?

Every second dragged, her breath growing slower, her pulse quicker.

She knew she couldn’t stand there forever. She had to move.

Taking a deep breath, she forced her feet forward, her fingers wrapping tightly around the door handle.

And then, she opened it.