Chapter 2

Morning came before she was ready.

It always did.

Eraya sat on the edge of her bed, shoulders slightly hunched, like even sitting required effort she didn’t fully have.

The sky outside was still pale, the sun not yet strong enough to reach inside her room.

Her arm throbbed.

A dull, constant reminder.

She looked at it without expression.

Not curiosity. Not fear.
Just… acknowledgement.

Like it was something expected.
Something routine.

Her fingers moved toward the small metal box beside her bed.

It opened with a faint creak, the sound too loud in the stillness.

Cotton. Antiseptic. Bandage.

That was all.

That was enough.

She cleaned the wound slowly, mechanically.

The sting spread sharply through her arm, but her face didn’t change.

No flinch.

No sound.

Because pain wasn’t something new.

Pain was… familiar.

Her eyes burned.

Red.

Not from crying, she didn’t remember the last time she allowed herself that,

but from nights that refused to let her sleep.

From thoughts that didn’t quiet.
From a life that didn’t pause.

She wrapped the bandage with practiced ease.

Perfect.

Neat.

Like nothing was wrong.

Like nothing ever was.

When she finished, her hands rested in her lap.

Still.

For a moment, she just sat there.

Listening to the silence.

Waiting for something.

A reason to move.

A reason to stay.

Nothing came.

So she stood.

Getting ready was mechanical.

Clothes laid out the night before, simple, plain.

A kurti that hung loosely, sleeves long enough to cover what needed to be covered.

A hoodie pulled over it, despite the weather.

Despite the fact that she knew she looked weird in it.

Her hair was tied back quickly, strands falling loose but left untouched.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

For a second.

Maybe less.

Then looked away.

There was nothing there she needed to see.

She paused at the top of the stairs.

Voices drifted from below.

Utensils clinking. Chairs moving.

Conversations that didn’t include her.

Her fingers curled slightly around the railing.

Breakfast.
The thought came.
Then left.

She turned away.

It was easier to leave before being reminded she didn’t belong there.

The road stretched long ahead of her.

Familiar.

Unchanging.

Fifty minutes, if she didn’t stop.

Eraya adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and began to walk.

The village was quiet this early.

A few people passed by, some glancing at her briefly before looking away.

She preferred it that way.

To not be seen.

To not be known.

Because being known meant being questioned.

And she didn’t have answers anyone wanted to hear.

She kept her gaze down, steps steady, measured.

Walking wasn’t hard.

It was just… long.

Her legs ached sometimes.

Today was one of those days.

But she didn’t slow down.
There was nowhere else to go.

And in a strange way,
this was still better.

Better than staying.
Better than waiting.
Better than being where she was not wanted.

At least here, on this road, she existed without interruption.

The wind brushed lightly against her face, cool and indifferent.

She exhaled slowly.

It’s fine, she told herself.

This is fine.

It had to be.

Because there was no alternative.

At least they let me study.

The thought came quietly.

A strange kind of gratitude.

At least I get this much.

She held onto that.

Because when life gives you almost nothing,
you learn to be thankful for the smallest things.

Even if they come with conditions.

Even if they come with a cost.

The college gates came into view, loud and alive in a way that felt distant to her.

Students laughed, talked, moved in groups, effortless, easy, like belonging came naturally to them.

Eraya walked through it all like a shadow.
Unseen.

Or maybe just… unacknowledged.

She didn’t mind.

Or at least, she told herself she didn’t.

The classroom was already half full when she entered.

No one looked at her.

No one called out.

No one expected her to do anything other than what she always did.

She moved straight to the last bench.

The corner.

Her place.

Her bag slid off her shoulder, placed neatly beside her.

She pulled her hoodie slightly forward, settling into it like armor.

The lecture began.

Words filled the room, discussions, questions, answers, but none of it reached her in the way it reached others.

Not because she didn’t understand.

She did.
She always did.

But understanding something… didn’t mean feeling a part of it.

Her eyes drifted.

Around the room.
Students leaned toward each other, whispering, exchanging notes, sharing small smiles over things she couldn’t hear.

They looked… comfortable.
Like this space belonged to them.

She wondered, briefly,
what that felt like.

To sit somewhere without calculating every movement.

To speak without weighing every word.

To exist without feeling like you were intruding.

Her fingers tightened slightly around her pen.

They must think I’m rude.

The thought came quietly.

Or arrogant.

Her gaze dropped to her notebook.

They must think I choose this.

The silence. The distance. The refusal.
A small, almost humorless breath escaped her.

If only it was a choice.

By midday, she left the classroom before anyone could notice.

Her steps carried her somewhere no one really went.

The top floor of the library.

It was always empty.
Always quiet.

Like it existed outside the rest of the college.

Dust lingered faintly in the air, sunlight filtering through tall windows, settling in soft golden patches across the floor.

She liked it here.

Not because it was beautiful.

But because it was unoccupied.

She could exist here without feeling like she was in someone else’s space.

She walked between the shelves slowly, her fingers brushing lightly against the spines of books.

Then she picked one.

Not new.

Not untouched.

But familiar.

Her favorite.

She sat near the window, pulling her knees slightly closer as she opened it.

The world outside blurred.

The world inside the pages came alive.

Love.
That was what the story was built on.

Soft words. Lingering glances.

People choosing each other without hesitation.

She read it again.
And again.
And again.
Because somewhere inside her,
she wanted to understand it.

Her fingers stilled on the page.

A quiet thought slipped in.

Will I ever…

Her breath hitched, just slightly.

Her eyes lifted from the book, staring at nothing.

Will I ever have something like this?

Someone who stays.

Someone who chooses.

Someone who doesn’t look at her like she’s something to be tolerated.

Her grip tightened.
Her chest felt… tight.

Unfamiliar.

Dangerous.

She shut the book halfway.

“No,” she whispered under her breath.

The word barely audible.

Firm.

Final.

“You don’t get that.”

Her voice was steady.

Like she had said it to herself before.

Like she needed to believe it.

“You don’t deserve that.”

Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unmoving.

She looked back at the page.
But the words didn’t feel the same anymore.

They never did after that thought came.

The canteen was loud.
Too loud.

Eraya didn’t go inside.
She never did.

But as she passed by, her steps slowed.

Just slightly.

Her eyes moved without meaning to.
And landed,
On them.
Shivani.
Anamika.
And her.

Zivah.

They sat at their usual corner table, laughter spilling between them like it belonged there.

Anamika leaned into Shivani, whispering something that made Shivani shake her head, smiling in that soft, private way.

Their hands brushed.
Stayed.
Effortless.

Like love was something easy.

Something allowed.

And Zivah,

Zivah sat across from them, laughing softly, her presence… different.

There was something about her.
Something warm.

Not loud. Not overwhelming.
Just… steady.

Like she carried sunlight without realizing it.

Eraya’s gaze lingered.

Longer than it should have.

She had seen her before.

Everyone had.

Zivah wasn’t just known,

she was noticed.

The college crush.

The girl people looked at twice.

Not just because she was beautiful,
but because she felt… real.

She wasn’t loud like others who wanted attention.

She didn’t try.

And maybe that’s what made people gravitate toward her.

She was also the captain of the basketball team, with Anamika as vice-captain.

People talked about them all the time, matches, wins, the way they carried themselves on court.

Strong.
Confident.
Unbreakable.

Everything Eraya wasn’t.

Eraya had watched once.
From far.

Zivah on the court, focused, alive, moving like she belonged to every moment she stepped into.

She remembered thinking,
Some people are made for the world.
And some,
are not.

Her chest tightened again.

They have everything.

Not with jealousy.

Just… quiet acceptance.

And I have… this.

Her gaze dropped.

Quickly.

Because looking too long felt dangerous.

Because admiring something you could never have,
hurt in a way she didn’t allow herself to feel fully.

She turned away.

Walked.

Like she hadn’t paused at all

She sat under the tree again.

Same place.

Same distance.

She pulled out an apple.

Her only meal.

Her fingers brushed over it before she took a bite.
Slow.
Careful.

Around her, life continued.
Laughter. Conversations. Plans.

She sat there, separate from it all.

They look happy.

The thought came again.
Softer this time.
She looks… warm.

Zivah.

The name stayed in her mind longer than she expected.

She didn’t know why.

She didn’t want to know why.

Her grip tightened around the apple.

Don’t.

Her breathing slowed.

Don’t think about it.

Because thinking meant wanting.
And wanting,
was not for her.

The rest of the day passed the way it always did.

Quiet.

Unnoticed.

Like time moved around her instead of with her.

And when it ended,
there was no relief.
Because ending meant going back.

The road stretched ahead again.

Long.

Familiar.

Her legs hurt more now.

Each step heavier than the last.

But she kept walking.

Because stopping wasn’t an option.

It never was.

The sky had begun to dim, the soft orange of evening settling over everything.

It should have felt peaceful.

But to her, it just felt… empty.

She exhaled slowly, her breath uneven.

It’s fine.

The same words.

The same lie.

Repeated until it felt almost real.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the strap of her bag.

This is fine.

Her steps didn’t slow.

Didn’t stop.

Didn’t falter.

Even when they wanted to.

Because some people don’t break loudly.

They don’t fall apart where others can see.

They just keep walking.

Quietly.

Carrying everything,
alone.

And somewhere, without knowing why,

someone had noticed her absence that day.

And maybe,
just maybe,
that would change everything.

But for now,
Eraya walked.
And the world let her.
_______
Heyy guys so with this part I’ve tried my best to highlight Eraya’s internal monologue all the sentences in bold represents her thoughts.