Layla’s feed was everything: perfectly curated photos of sunsets, lattes, and glossy flat lays of her latest book finds. She had built a small empire around her “self-love” brand, offering advice on everything from skincare to soul-searching. But after one particularly grueling day of posting, she found herself at a crossroads. The likes, the comments—they were all so… hollow. She craved something deeper, but she didn’t know where to begin.

That’s when she stumbled upon a Rumi quote in her inbox. It came from an unfamiliar account—@Rumi_Whispers.

"You were born with wings, why prefer to crawl through life?"

She wasn’t a spiritual guru, but there was something about the simplicity and depth of it that felt like a sign. Maybe she could post it. Maybe this was the direction she had been subconsciously searching for.

She shared the quote to her story, paired with a soft sunset filter. She tagged it #selfgrowth and moved on with her day.

But the next morning, there was another message from @Rumi_Whispers.

"Don't grieve. Anything you lose comes round in new form."

Layla paused. It was strange to receive such personal messages, and the user’s feed—there was nothing. No posts, no profile picture, just the messages. The words felt too intimate to be a random quote; they seemed to speak directly to her.

Curiosity piqued, she replied. "Thank you for this. I needed to hear it." But, to her surprise, there was no response.

Later that night, after another exhausting day of scrolling through influencer content, Layla went to bed with the Rumi quote still lingering in her mind. As she closed her eyes, her phone buzzed again. She opened it, expecting a spam message or a fan comment, but the screen was different. There was a notification from @Rumi_Whispers.

"Meet me where the world is silent. Close your eyes."

Confused but intrigued, Layla did what she was told. She closed her eyes, feeling an odd heaviness come over her. Slowly, the world around her seemed to fade, replaced by a golden light that enveloped her.

She opened her eyes, but she wasn’t in her bedroom anymore. She stood in an endless field, the wind rippling through her hair, and a distant figure in flowing robes moved toward her.

It was him—Rumi. The figure spoke without moving his lips, as though the words were whispered directly into her mind.

"The wound is the place where the Light enters you."

Layla blinked, unsure if she was dreaming or in some strange vision. She looked down at her phone—still in her hand, glowing with a soft light. She tapped the screen, but there were no messages. No evidence of the encounter at all.

And then, as if on cue, the world around her shifted again. The field faded, and she was now walking beside a river, the moonlight casting a soft glow on the water. She could hear the sound of a flute—a melody both haunting and beautiful.

"Wherever you stand, be the soul of that place," Rumi’s voice filled the air.

Layla took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words settle deep in her chest. This was more than a dream. She was living something. Something ancient. Something profound.

When she awoke, she was back in her room. Her phone lay beside her, the message from @Rumi_Whispers still glowing on the screen:

"You’ve always been here. Let go of your fear."

Shaken, Layla sat up, her heart racing. It felt as if the entire world had shifted. The influence of her feed, the brands, the followers—they suddenly seemed insignificant. The glossy photos were nothing compared to the reality she had just experienced. The true message, the true journey, was something much deeper, a connection to the divine and to herself.

She opened Instagram, but instead of posting a filtered photo, she typed something new, something raw:

"I’ve found the light. You are that light, too."

For the first time in ages, she felt the weight of every word. The likes would come, but it no longer mattered. Her account wasn’t a brand—it was a journey, a path she was walking with Rumi, and now with herself.

The next morning, Layla checked her messages again. There was nothing from @Rumi_Whispers.

She smiled softly to herself. She knew now. The follower wasn’t a person—it was a guide, a reminder. Rumi was not just in the pages of books or quotes on her feed. He was a whisper within her own heart.

She had been born with wings. And now, she was finally learning to fly.