Unwanted cries

Aarya never thought she would find a school that felt almost like a second home.

After the upheavals and constant moves of her childhood, she had grown used to feeling like an outsider.

Yet here she was, a fifth grader in a small, unassuming school just five minutes from her house, discovering the smallest spark of happiness she’d known in a long time.

A New Routine

Her days began early, as always.

Aarya would wake up before dawn, partly because her mother insisted on certain morning chores, and partly out of habit—years of unpredictability in her home had taught her to be alert.

She would quietly wash her face, dress in her neat but simple uniform, and head to the kitchen to see if she could help prepare breakfast.

Sometimes, her mother was too weary to cook, still carrying the emotional weight of the previous night’s arguments.

Other times, her father sat in the corner, reading the newspaper and making the atmosphere tense with his silent presence.

Despite the heaviness at home, Aarya felt a small spark of excitement whenever she thought about school.

She had made friends easily this time—something she had never been able to do before.

Perhaps it was because she was getting older, or maybe she had learned to put on a bright face in front of strangers.

Whatever the reason, she found herself looking forward to the short walk that took her to a place that felt, if not entirely safe, at least more welcoming than home.

Just after finishing breakfast—often a simple plate of roti and some vegetables—she would sling her bag over her shoulder and step outside.

The fresh morning air always felt like a promise of something new.

She never lingered to see if her father might have some chore for her at the last minute; she had learned to slip out before he could find a reason to keep her.

A True Friend

Waiting outside her gate, almost every morning, was her classmate and new friend, Priya.

Priya had a habit of arriving a few minutes earlier than planned, as if she couldn’t wait to spend time with Aarya.

Together, they would walk the short distance to school, giggling about jokes that only made sense to them or discussing small details about their favorite teachers.

Priya was everything Aarya was not—confident, talkative, and unafraid to voice her opinions.

She came from a family that, while not wealthy, seemed to value her presence.

She often told Aarya about how her parents encouraged her to study, to explore her interests, and to play sports if she wanted.

Aarya listened in quiet wonder, realizing that Priya’s home life sounded like a different world altogether.

Still, Aarya never told Priya much about her own family.

She didn’t mention her father’s temper or her mother’s long struggles with mental health.

She never spoke of the bruises that sometimes darkened her mother’s arms or the anxiety that kept her mother locked in cycles of fear.

Instead, she listened, nodding and smiling as Priya recounted stories of weekend picnics and affectionate banter with her parents.

It was easier that way.

Let Priya keep her illusions of a normal life, and let Aarya maintain her own secrets.