And just like that, our class test marks were out.
I was confident — maybe too confident. I had expected good grades, the kind that would reflect the hours I’d poured into studying, the late nights spent hunched over textbooks. But staring at my scorecard, all I felt was disappointment. My name, next to numbers that didn’t feel like me.
This was the lowest I had ever scored. This… wasn’t who I believed I was.
I looked around. Almost everyone seemed content, nodding to each other, satisfied with their results. Their laughter rang through the corridor like static. I didn’t want to hear it.
I walked up to the teacher, clutching my paper tightly. “Ma’am, where exactly did I go wrong? I think my answers were correct, but the marks don’t match.”
She gave me a smile — the kind that feels polite but distant. “You’re in 11th grade now. The grading system won’t be so lenient anymore.”
That was it.
A sentence. A shrug. And I was left alone with my spiral.
I had worked hard. I knew I did. But it wasn’t enough.
Sara noticed the silence clinging to me. She came over, wrapping her arm gently around my shoulder, and whispered, “It’s okay. You’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.”
That evening, I sat at the dining table with my mom.
“I want to join tuitions,” I said, my voice steady. “My marks aren’t up to the mark, and I really want to improve.”
She didn’t even look up. “I don’t have the resources to send you to tuitions. If you want to study, figure it out yourself. I don’t have time for this fuss.”
I tried again, softer this time. “Please, just—”
“No.”
And that was the end of it.
I wanted to cry, scream, argue — but instead, I decided to choose something else.
Resolve.
If no one else was going to fight for my future, then I would.
I turned to online platforms, free resources, video lectures, anything that could help me learn. I started making timetables, setting goals, slowly trying to piece together the version of myself I knew I could be.
Around the same time, our trio group — Dev, Sara, and me — decided to hang out. A casual plan.
I couldn’t tell my parents — they never really understood the concept of friendships. All my life, I was told not to get too close to people. Don’t talk too much. Don’t trust anyone. And somewhere along the way, I grew up thinking maybe solitude was safer. Maybe it was better.
But this year, something shifted in me. I was tired of being by myself, tired of sitting alone while laughter bloomed around me like flowers I wasn't allowed to touch. So I made a promise to myself — to try. To let people in. To make friends.
And that promise led me here.
We decided to go to a nearby shopping complex, nothing too fancy, just somewhere we could laugh without measuring it, walk without purpose, and exist outside of school walls. It was the first time I’d ever hung out with friends — and not just any friends, my best friends.
Best friends.
The word felt new, but familiar. Like it finally belonged to me. Like I could say it without hesitation, without fear. Like it had always been waiting for me to catch up to it.
Sara, being the playful soul she was, wandered off into the toy section and started messing around with plastic guns, making loud sound effects and pretending we were in some action movie. Dev groaned dramatically and tried to stop her, but ended up joining in instead. I stood there, laughing so hard my cheeks hurt, watching the two people who had somehow become my safe space.
It was chaos, and it was beautiful.
The three of us — loud, silly, unfiltered — weaving our madness together like it was second nature. No one was pretending. No one was performing. We were just… being.
That day, something shifted inside me.
Not just the joy of the moment, but the realization that I had found something real — something I never thought I could have. Friendship. Belonging. A little corner of the world where I didn’t feel like I had to shrink myself.
Our day was joyful — full of laughter that echoed down mall corridors and inside jokes that would live on far past this outing.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like an outsider in my own story.
Top of Form
And somehow, quietly, things between me and Prajwal were changing too.
The once-distant mornings were now marked with a gentle smile or a soft nod of acknowledgment. Silent gestures that said, “I see you.”
One morning, I left home after a heated argument. I stood at the bus stop, fists clenched, jaw tight, my eyes burning holes into the ground.
Out of nowhere, Prajwal walked up beside me.
“Hey… what happened?”
I didn’t look at him. “Nothing.”
There was a pause. And then, softly, “You can talk to me about anything, you know.”
I glanced up. His face was sincere. No pressure. Just presence.
I managed a small smile. “It’s actually nothing.”
As if on cue, the bus arrived — saving me from saying more, or maybe saying too much.
He’s changing. Or maybe, he’s unfolding.
Now, I see bits and pieces of him that weren’t visible before — parts of him he’s either kept hidden or never found the space to show. Sometimes, he still tags along with Dev, but more often, he’s alone. As if the world feels a bit too harsh. As if silence has become his shield.
Our conversations stay light-hearted, but the energy has shifted. There’s something softer now. Familiar.
We’ve become friends. That much, I know.
From random memes to late-night deep dives into life and everything in between — our connection is growing. Quietly. Slowly.
Maybe this is the beginning of something.
Maybe not.
But it feels like something worth holding onto.
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Hey lil loves, i hope you like today's chapter.
New chapters will be uploaded every Monday-Thursday.
Love you all!!
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