In a quiet corner of the city, far from luxury and excess, a boy named Reza grew up with fragile hopes. His home was made of worn-out wooden planks, its roof leaking whenever the rain poured. His mother worked as a laundress, scrubbing clothes for the wealthy, while his father pedaled a rickshaw, struggling to find passengers.
At ten years old, Reza often helped his mother wash clothes, dreaming of a better life once he grew up.
"One day, when I'm older, I'll escape this place," he whispered to himself every night, as hunger gnawed at his stomach.
But life was never as kind as the dreams he nurtured. As a teenager, he was forced to quit school when his father fell ill. He took over his father's rickshaw, pedaling through the crowded streets, feeling the weight of survival pressing down on him. The rain, the scorching sun, and the thick, black exhaust from passing vehicles became his daily companions.
In his twenties, Reza hopped from one job to another - sometimes a construction worker, sometimes carrying goods at the market. Life hadn't changed. If anything, it had only grown heavier. His mother had grown older, his youngest sibling needed school fees, and he never had the chance to chase anything beyond mere survival.
As a child, he believed adulthood would bring freedom. But now, he realized adulthood only meant more responsibilities. Not just for himself, but for those who depended on him.
Years passed, and Reza was now in his thirties. He still lived in the same narrow alley, the same home that once sheltered his childhood dreams. But now, it was not his mother washing clothes - it was his wife. And it was not his father pedaling the rickshaw - it was him.
At night, when the world was asleep, he sat by his small doorway, staring at the empty streets. Once, he longed for freedom. But now, he only wished to be strong. Strong enough to endure a life that never truly allowed people like him to dream.
Because for people like Reza, life was never about achieving dreams. It was about surviving, even when every step forward felt like walking through an endless hollow.