The Dark Knight

By Satyam

They didn’t see the battles he fought.
Because he fought them in silence.
At night. Alone.

No armor.
No sword.
Just scars. And a tired heart that refused to give up.

By day, he smiled like everyone else. Laughed when people did. Nodded when he had to.
But when the world slept, his mind awoke—louder than any alarm.
Regret whispered.
Doubt screamed.
And memories marched like soldiers through his chest.

He wasn’t fearless.
He was just used to fear.
He wasn’t heartless.
He’d just built walls to protect what was left of it.

They called him lazy when he couldn’t get out of bed.
Selfish when he stopped picking up calls.
Distant when his replies were dry.
But none of them knew—he was still showing up, even if barely breathing inside.

They didn’t know what it meant to survive while feeling like a ghost.
To carry the weight of expectations that don’t match the energy you have left.
To want to scream but stay silent… because what if no one listens?

But here's the thing about the dark knight:
He didn’t need a spotlight.
He didn’t need an audience.
He just needed one more night.
One more try.
One more reason to stand up, even if his knees shook.

Because somewhere deep inside him, something still burned—
A quiet fire.
A small voice that said,
“Not yet. Your story isn’t done.”

So he rose.
Not with glory.
Not with cheers.
But with purpose.

And that’s when he realized—
You don’t have to shine to be a knight.
Sometimes, just surviving the night…
is enough.