It was morning, and I was alive.
Sometimes, I had to remind myself of that—because it was hard to believe.
The city was awake now, or maybe it had never really slept. The children's screams, the rickshaws' absurd honks, and the vegetable vendor's off-key calls... it felt like not a person, but the entire neighborhood was screaming.
I stood by the window—like I did every morning.
A cup of tea in my hand, now gone cold.
Just like me—once warm, now just a faint steam.
The road below was the same.
The same turn, the same crossroads…
Where two nights ago, Arin had said:
"Nothing will change."
And I had laughed, because by then, everything had already changed.
His leaving, his shadow, his silence—they all felt like sunlight now, the kind that doesn't touch you… it burns.
"How deep do words sink into people?"
I had asked in silence—maybe to myself, maybe to that empty room.
Maybe I was the question, and I was the answer too.
I remembered what Tenzin once said—"One glance… is enough."
That day when he said it, there was something in his voice that settled into my bones.
To this day, I don't know if he meant it for me or for himself.
Or maybe, he just needed to say it—like we all do sometimes, just to hear ourselves.
Nami had once said—"Some people come into your life only to be sorrow."
She had said it about Arin—or maybe about me.
Maybe about both of us.
I had asked my heart again—"Was Arin really everything?"
And my heart had replied with the same careless tone—"You're nothing yourself."
Sometimes, I felt love wasn't a beautiful thing.
It was a mirror—in which we saw our own ugly face for the first time.
And then one day, I decided—no more.
I didn't want answers anymore.
I wanted to be the question now.
For Arin, for Tenzin, for Nami… and most of all, for myself.
I had put on my uniform—blue skirt and white shirt.
A tie around my neck, half undone as always.
Because I could never fully be bound to anything.
The school gate was ahead, but I didn't think it was worth stopping there.
What if Arin showed up?
I wouldn't look.
Or maybe I would… but I wouldn't let him know.
Nami, as always, met me on the way.
Without any preface, she blurted—"Join the dance team!"
I shook my head with a laugh—a laugh that felt like pain's little sister.
"I'd bring the stage down," I said.
She rolled her eyes—"You're scared."
Maybe I was.
But of what?
Of love?
Or of what remains after love—the silence?
And then that moment came…
Arin, standing near the water cooler.
Laughing while talking to someone else—as if I were some old book he'd already read.
Our eyes met.
For just a moment.
And in that one moment, everything was said.
I wasn't broken—I had just bent.
With trembling hands, I clutched the strap of my bag tighter.
---
Tenzin arrived—like always, like a poem that had walked up to me.
"Good morning, beautiful."
He smiled.
Without smiling, I asked—"Why are you such a liar?"
He gave a cold laugh.
"Because sometimes, even lies are needed by those who are listening."
I looked at him—and for the first time, I felt we all live in the fables we write for ourselves.
In class, I opened my book—but the words refused to be read.
Arin's silence, Nami's warnings, Tenzin's cunning…
They were all making noise inside me.
And me?
I was just thinking—
If words are true, then why are people so silent?