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Rahima Suleiman
Student @ Nasarawa State University
Hidden darkness
<p>Hidden Darkness</p><p><br/></p><p>In the quiet town of Merin Hill, everyone believed the world was simple: daylight meant safety, and night meant sleep. But for sixteen-year-old Aisha, darkness wasn’t just the absence of light—it was something she carried inside her.</p><p><br/></p><p>Aisha was known for her calm smile, the kind that made people think she never worried. She helped her mother in the shop, finished her schoolwork early, and listened when her friends needed advice. On the outside, she looked like she had everything under control.</p><p><br/></p><p>But inside, her thoughts were noisy.</p><p><br/></p><p>Every night, when the house grew quiet, Aisha’s hidden darkness came alive. It wasn’t a monster or a shadow that followed her—it was her doubts.</p><p>What if I fail? What if people are only pretending to like me? What if I’m not enough?</p><p><br/></p><p>She never told anyone. Not her mother. Not her friends. Not even herself, out loud.</p><p><br/></p><p>One evening, after a long day, Aisha walked to the old bridge at the edge of the town. It wasn’t a dangerous place—just a calm spot where the river whispered under the wooden planks. She liked it because it felt honest. No noise. No pretending.</p><p><br/></p><p>As she sat down, she noticed someone else was already there: Musa, a quiet boy from school who always kept to himself. He looked surprised to see her.</p><p><br/></p><p>“You come here too?” Aisha asked.</p><p><br/></p><p>Musa nodded. “When my head feels heavy.”</p><p><br/></p><p>Aisha hesitated. “Like… too many thoughts?”</p><p><br/></p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p><br/></p><p>They sat in silence for a moment. Then Musa added, “People think being quiet means you’re fine. But sometimes… the loudest things happen inside.”</p><p><br/></p><p>Aisha felt her chest loosen, just a little. It was the first time someone said something that matched what she felt.</p><p><br/></p><p>She didn’t pour out all her secrets that day. She didn’t suddenly stop overthinking. But she realized something important: hidden darkness doesn’t disappear by pretending it isn’t there. It becomes lighter when it’s understood—when someone else says, “I feel that too.”</p><p><br/></p><p>As Aisha walked home under the dim evening sky, she didn’t feel afraid of the darkness anymore. For the first time, she realized it wasn’t a sign of weakness. It was a part of being human—something she could face, step by step.</p><p><br/></p><p>And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face it alone.</p><p><br/></p>
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