The fluorescent lights of the university library hummed, casting a sterile glow on Elias’s hunched figure. Stacks of calculus textbooks surrounded him like a fortress, but inside, his mind felt more like a battlefield. Math wasn’t his solace tonight; it was a tormentor. He slammed the textbook shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent space.
Elias, a name once whispered with admiration in the math department, was now synonymous with something else: disappointment. The prejudice was subtle, almost imperceptible, woven into casual conversations and lingering glances. Professors, once enthusiastic mentors, now offered only pitying smiles. His research, once groundbreaking, now stalled, the pressure a suffocating weight.
His life had always depended on academics, on excelling, on proving himself. He needed validation because the silence from his parents rang like a drum. Depending on others for emotional support felt like a weakness he couldn't afford, especially after… well, after everything.
He opened his laptop, the screen flickering with unsent emails and abandoned research proposals. He scrolled through old photos – a younger, brighter Elias, radiating confidence at a math Olympiad. Now, the light in his eyes was replaced by a shadow, a constant reminder of his perceived failures.
His gaze fell on a small, silver bracelet he always wore – a gift from his grandmother, a woman who’d believed in him unconditionally. It was a fragile thread connecting him to a past he desperately clung to. Lately, however, he found himself tempted to break that thread, to simply… give up. His grip tightened on the bracelet, a silent plea for strength he wasn't sure he possessed.
The desire for oblivion tugged at him, a dark current threatening to pull him under. Self-harm had become a dangerous temptation, a fleeting escape from the relentless pressure. The scars on his wrist were hidden under long sleeves, a secret shame that mirrored the wounds within. He knew it was wrong, destructive, but sometimes, the pain was a welcome distraction from the mental agony.
Across the library, Maya sat nursing a lukewarm coffee, her own set of textbooks a silent witness to her struggle. Engineering, a field she’d dreamed of since childhood, now felt like an insurmountable barrier. The gender prejudice was blatant, the condescending remarks and dismissive attitudes chipping away at her confidence.
She’d poured her heart and soul into her projects, only to have her ideas ignored or credited to her male peers. She'd started questioning whether she had made the right choices to depend on getting a degree in such an anti-woman sector, whether her intellect was lacking. The weight of expectation pressed down on her, fueled by years of subtle conditioning.
Her own dependence issues were a reflection of society at large. Women are not respected enough. Her mother had drilled it into her since she was little. This is just something Maya had been living with.
She glanced at her reflection in the dark library window – a pale face framed by tired eyes. The spark of ambition that had once burned so brightly was now just a flickering ember. She found herself wishing she was more of a person people wanted to rely on.
She opened her sketchbook, hoping to find solace in drawing, but the page remained blank. The creative flow that once came so easily was now blocked, replaced by a suffocating sense of inadequacy. She felt as trapped in her circumstances as she had at home.
She clenched her jaw, fighting back tears. The pressure to succeed, to prove herself, was overwhelming. Like Elias, self-harm occasionally danced on the periphery of her thoughts, a desperate attempt to reclaim control in a world that seemed determined to strip her of it. She had resisted, each time her resolve was challenged. Now the demon comes for the finale.
Their eyes met across the room. Elias, lost in his despair, saw Maya staring back, her expression mirroring his own inner turmoil. There was a flicker of recognition, a shared understanding of the burdens they both carried.
He hesitantly closed his laptop and walked toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. It was a gamble, a fragile step into the unknown, but something compelled him to reach out.
"Hi," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm Elias."
Maya looked up, startled. "Maya," she replied, her voice equally soft. "Are you…okay?"
Elias hesitated, unsure how to answer. "No," he admitted, finally. "I don't think I am. Are you?"
Maya managed a wry smile. "Definitely not."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared struggles hanging heavy in the air. It was an oddly comforting silence, a tacit acknowledgment of their shared pain.
"Math's been kicking my butt lately," Elias confessed, breaking the silence.
Maya nodded. "Engineering's been equally unkind. It’s hard depending on this industry to respect me when it doesn't want me here."
"It feels like…everyone's depending on me, or expecting something from me. What they aren't depending on is getting to know the real me." Elias laughed humorlessly.
He noticed a worn copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' lying next to her sketch book. 'It looks like it's got you trapped in a web of social expectations! But isn't there a romance inside it?"
Maya giggled 'It seems I have also given in to romance, for now'.
"I'm just tired of needing everyone else to dictate the terms of my happiness", she added.
They began to talk, tentatively at first, sharing their experiences, their frustrations, their hopes and fears. Elias spoke about the pressure to live up to his academic potential, the sting of prejudice, and the darkness that sometimes threatened to consume him. Maya described the sexism she faced in engineering, the constant battle to prove her worth, and the insidious voice in her head that told her she wasn't good enough.
As they spoke, a connection began to form, a fragile understanding that transcended their individual struggles. They found solace in each other's honesty, a shared sense of vulnerability that allowed them to let down their guard.
"Do you ever wonder if…if wanting to depend on someone is just a sign of weakness?" Elias asked, his voice laced with doubt.
Maya paused, considering his question. "I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe. But maybe it's also a sign of strength, of being brave enough to admit that you can't do everything on your own."
Elias looked at her, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. "So… it is fine depending on my parents when things are rough?", Elias mused outloud.
"I don't know Elias. Do you think that they are fair?" replied Maya. "It could depend on what their answer is"
"I don't even know if it's dependency, if you are really just hoping for a hand up." continued Elias.
“Exactly. Dependence or… something else… romance? I find this is an eternal struggle with me,” Maya replied.
Elias felt her romance question burn through him. The honesty surprised him, and brought him an excitement he had never been familiar with.
As the hours passed, their conversation deepened, exploring the complex layers of their emotions, their insecurities, and their aspirations. They debated whether needing someone automatically equated to dependency. The very thought caused Elias pain.
Outside, the first rays of dawn began to paint the sky, casting a warm glow on their faces. The library, once a symbol of isolation, now felt like a sanctuary, a space where they could be honest, vulnerable, and seen.
As they finally said goodbye, there was an unspoken understanding between them, a promise of continued support and shared growth.
Elias walked home with a lightness in his step he hadn't felt in months. The problems hadn't magically disappeared, but he no longer felt alone in his struggle. He finally knew where he was on whether depending on his parents was reasonable. A fair judge he met in his highschool also helped him see sense.
Maya smiled as she packed her books, a sense of hope blossoming in her heart. She knew the road ahead would be challenging, but she also knew that she wasn't walking it alone. A romance was not brewing for her, she thought.
The seeds of a connection had been planted, a connection that held the potential to blossom into something beautiful, something that might just help them heal and rediscover their love for math and science, and above all, their lives.