"Mom, I'm going to coaching," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. She didn't even look up from her phone. "Don't be late this time, Ariva. And remember, your test scores better improve. You know how much we're spending on these classes."
I forced a smile she didn't notice and closed the door behind me. The smile vanished the second I stepped outside.
The air felt heavier today. Or maybe it was just me. Every step toward the coaching center felt like walking deeper into a cage I couldn't
escape.
Today... today the sir will give the test results. God, please save me.
I whispered it under my breath like a prayer, but the words felt empty, as if even God was tired of hearing me.
In coaching Sir walked into the room like a storm. His face was tight, his steps sharp. Without a word, he slammed a stack of papers on the
desk.
The silence was heavy, broken only by the hum of the fan.
Then he spoke, his voice cold:
"Disappointed. That's what I feel today. This batch has no seriousness.
Results are pathetic."
My stomach twisted.
He picked up the first paper.
"Nyelle-62 out of 100. Careless mistakes again."
Nyelle walked up slowly, her hands trembling as she took the sheet.
"Zynara-64. Still not good enough."
Zynara kept her head down, biting her lip.
"Lior-68. I expected better from you."
Lior shrugged, forcing a laugh, but his eyes looked tired.
One by one, names kept coming. "Taren-61. Sareen-63." Each number fell like a hammer in my chest.
Then it came. "Ariva."
The sound of my name made my heart drop. I walked to the desk, my
steps heavy.
Sir shoved the paper at me without looking up.
"Expected better."
I turned it over.
66 out of 100.
Not a disaster. But not enough. Not for them. Not for home.
Sir shouted the whole time. His voice roared like thunder, breaking through every thought in my head.
"None of you take this seriously! What are you going to do in real exams? In life? If this is the best you can do, you're already finished!"
His words stabbed again and again until they didn't even hurt anymore—they just made me numb. My 66 was still crumpled in my fist, red ink digging into my eyes like a scar.
Finally, class ended. Everyone scattered like dry leaves in the wind, laughing nervously, talking like it didn't matter. But their voices didn't reach me.
I walked out slowly, feeling like I was floating. My feet hit the road,
but
my mind was somewhere else.
Leave everything. Don't go back. Just run.
The thought came like a whisper at first. Then louder. Then it was the
only voice I heard.
Don't go home. Don't face them. Don't face anyone.
My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. My legs moved faster, faster, until I wasn't walking anymore-I was running. Away from the coaching center, away from the noise, away from everything.
But eventually, my steps slowed. And somehow... somehow, I ended up in front of my house.
The familiar wooden door stood there, silent. Safe. Or it was supposed
to be.
I reached for the handle, my hand trembling. My breath came in
sharp, shallow bursts.
And then I froze.
I couldn't do it.
I couldn't open the door.
My forehead pressed against the cold wood as tears filled my eyes. My heart was beating so fast it hurt.
Behind this door were voices waiting to break me questions, anger,
disappointment. Words sharper than any knife.
I gripped the handle tighter, but my fingers wouldn't move.
Why can't I do it? Why am I like this? Why can't I even walk into my own home?
I slid down slowly, sitting on the step, my head buried in my arms, sobbing silently as the world kept moving outside.
I finally forced the door open. My hands were shaking, but somehow, I stepped inside.
The living room was warm and bright, like nothing had changed. Like the world wasn't falling apart inside me.
Dad was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. The moment he saw me, he smiled wide.
"Hey, Ariva! How was today? Everything good?"
I forced a smile, lips trembling. "Good, Dad," I said softly, hoping my voice didn't crack.
He nodded, happy with the answer, and went back to his phone.
I walked quickly to my room, my heart racing, ready to shut the door and hide—but before I could touch the handle, I heard her voice.
"Ariva."
I froze.
Mom was standing in the hallway, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"How was the test? What's the result?"
My stomach turned to ice. I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.
Then Dad's voice came from behind, calm but curious:
"Yeah, Ariva... how much did you score? I know my daughter must have gotten 90+, right?"
My heart started pounding so hard it felt like it would burst out of my chest. My hands shook as I opened my bag. Slowly. So slowly. Like maybe time would stop before I had to do this.
I pulled out the paper. Red marks stared back at me like open wounds.
Without a word, I held it out to Mom.
She snatched it from my hand and looked.
Her face changed in an instant. From hope... to disbelief... to anger.
"Sixty-six?" Her voice was sharp like glass breaking.
"Sixty-six, Ariva?! Out of 100?! What is this?!"
Dad stood up now, his voice rising.
"What?! Only 66? What were you doing in class? Playing? Watching your stupid phone?"
I wanted to disappear. To melt into the floor.
"I... I tried," I whispered. My throat burned, but no tears came out.
"I studied..."
"Studied?!" Mom shouted. "You call this studying? Do you know how much money we are paying for that coaching? Do you think money grows on trees?"
Dad stepped closer, his voice cold now:
"You are ruining your future, Ariva. Ruining everything. You can't even get 90 in a simple test? How will you clear boards? How will you get into a good college?!"
Their words kept hitting me like blows. I wanted to scream, to tell them I was tired, that I couldn't breathe, that I just wanted them to hold me instead of tearing me apart.
But nothing came out.
Just silence.
And in that silence, something inside me broke.
I entered my room and closed the door behind me as quietly as I could. My legs felt heavy, like they didn't want to carry me anymore. The moment the latch clicked, I let the fake smile fall from my face.
My cheeks were burning, and my chest hurt.
I dropped my bag on the floor and sat on the edge of my bed. For a second, I just stared at the wall, blinking fast because I didn't want the tears to fall. But they did. Slowly, silently. I buried my face in my hands and cried in a low sound, like I was afraid someone might hear me and come knocking.
"Maybe Mom is right," I whispered to myself between shaky breaths. Sixty-six... out of a hundred. That's not good enough. Not for them. Not for this house.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand and looked at my notes lying on the table. All those formulas, all those definitions—they stared back at me like they were laughing.
I sniffled hard and stood up. "I'll do better," I told myself, my voice trembling but firm. "I won't let them say I'm a failure. I'll study harder. I'll make it right."
And just like that, I opened my books. My hands were still shaking, my eyes still swollen, but I forced myself to read. Because maybe... just maybe... if I worked hard enough, they would smile at me the way they used to.
The next day, I walked into school with my head down, clutching my bag so tightly my fingers hurt. I kept telling myself, I'll do better. I'll try my best. But the voices in my head wouldn't stop whispering,
What if you fall again? What if you lose?
I didn't say a word to anyone. Not even a smile. I just walked straight to class and sat in the corner. I could feel people staring, maybe wondering why I'd changed so much. A few months ago, I used to laugh. I used to talk. I wasn't like this. But now... I feel safer being invisible.
Even my best friend, Lina, looked confused. During lunch, she came over with her bright smile—the same smile that always used to make me feel okay.
"Hey... what's going on?" she said softly, sitting beside me. "You've been ignoring me for weeks. Actually... half the year now. You don't talk to anyone. Not even me."
I kept my eyes on my lunchbox, pretending to eat even though I had no appetite.
"Remember that day when we laughed so hard over nothing? You were so happy," she continued, her voice cracking a little. "What happened to that you? Where did she go?"
Her words stabbed right through me because I wanted to answer. I wanted to tell her everything. How tired I am. How I feel like I'm drowning. But instead, I just stayed quiet, my fingers gripping the spoon like it was the only thing holding me together.
She touched my hand gently. "Please... talk to me."
But I couldn't. My throat felt locked, and my heart kept screaming, If I tell her, she won't understand. No one will.
So, I stood up, forcing a small smile that didn't reach my eyes. "I'm fine," I lied, and walked away before she could say anything else.
My daily routine has become a clock I can't escape.
6 AM – School. The alarm drags me out of bed before the sun is even up. I get dressed, grab my bag, and go through the motions. I barely speak, barely look at anyone. Everyone else laughs, chats, teases... but I can't. I can't let myself get distracted.
1 PM – Back home. I eat lunch quickly, staring at the table, thinking about the tests, the marks, what my parents will say. Half the time, I don't even taste the food. My mind is already somewhere else—calculating formulas, remembering definitions, trying to memorize.
3 PM – Coaching. The ride there is quiet. I sit by myself, headphones in sometimes, pretending I'm somewhere else. But my heart is always hammering, thinking: Will I fail today? Will I disappoint them again?
6 PM – Back home. The house is calm, quiet, but that doesn't mean it's safe. My parents expect results, they expect improvement. My chest tightens before I even greet them.
6:30 PM to 9 PM – Study again. Books, notes, pens scattered around me. I try to focus, try to memorize every formula, every definition. My eyes burn, my hands ache, but I don't stop. There's no reward, no smile, only the fear of failure that follows me like a shadow.
And the thought never leaves me: What if I fall? What if I lose?
This routine... it's relentless. Every day blends into the next. I don't laugh anymore. I don't talk. I barely exist outside these walls of school, coaching, and endless studying.
Even Lina tries sometimes. She sits beside me, smiling, asking if I'm okay. But I can't. I can't answer her. If I do, she'll see everything inside me—and maybe even judge me for not being perfect.
So I keep going. Clock in, clock out. Day in, day out. Hoping, somewhere, all this effort will finally be enough.
In home "Ariva! It's 2:40, wake up!"
Her voice cut through the haze of my nap. I groaned softly, burying my face deeper into my pillow. My eyes were heavy, still clinging to sleep. The afternoon nap was supposed to help me recharge for coaching, but my body felt heavier than usual, as if even rest was exhausting me.
Slowly, I opened my eyes, blinking against the sunlight filtering through the curtains. My room felt quiet, almost too quiet, and for a second I wished I could just drift back into the comfort of the nap.
I swung my legs off the bed, rubbing my eyes. "Okay... okay, I'm up," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper. My bag from school was still lying on the floor, a reminder of the day I had already survived.
As I stood, stretching stiff arms, I tried to shake off the lingering tiredness. But my mind was already shifting back to the routine waiting for me: coaching at 3 PM, tests, notes, endless studying. Even in my brief nap, I felt the weight of everything pressing down again.
I sighed, picked up my bag, and started preparing for the next part of the day.
I woke up again, already feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me. I honestly didn't know how I had made it through school, through the hours of classes and lessons—I just did. My body moved on autopilot, my mind somewhere between exhaustion and worry.
Before I knew it, I was on my way to coaching. The ride was quiet, my head leaning against the window, watching the city blur past. I barely remembered anything from the morning; it all felt like a half-forgotten dream.
Class was the same as always. Notes, lectures, questions I struggled to answer even though I had tried my best. When it finally ended, I felt drained, but there was no time to rest. I had to go to the library to finish some assignments before the next set of lessons.
The library was peaceful. The soft rustle of pages and low hum of students working gave me a strange sense of comfort. I walked to an empty desk and spread my books in front of me.
Then, a voice broke the quiet.
"Hey... do you know this one in English?"
I looked up and saw a boy around my age, carrying a notebook. He me—and maybe even judge me for not being perfect.
"I'm Riven," he said, holding out his hand. "We're in the same class at coaching, but I think you study at a different school, right?"
I nodded, a little shy. "Yeah... that's right."
He pulled up a chair beside me and opened his notebook. "I'm stuck on this English exercise. Could you help me figure it out?"
For the first time today, my chest didn't feel so heavy. I leaned over the notebook, pointing at the sentences, explaining what I thought. Riven listened carefully, asking questions without making me feel stupid. It was... easy. Comfortable.
For a moment, I almost forgot the pressure of tests, the weight of marks, and the routine that had been suffocating me. Just a simple conversation about English. Just two students trying to learn something together.
It wasn't much, but it felt like a tiny crack of light in the long, dark day.
"Thank you, Ariva," Riven said as we packed our things. His smile was easy, the kind that made the day feel lighter, even though I was still tired.
"Tomorrow, you're coming to my place," he added, a little excitedly.
I froze for a second. My heart skipped. "I... I don't know," I muttered, glancing at my books. "My mom... she wouldn't allow it."
"Oh!" he said, shrugging. "Okay, that's fine. No pressure. Maybe another time?"
I nodded quickly. "Yeah... maybe."
He laughed softly. "Alright, so let's go then. Shall we buy something on the way?"
I hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Okay... let's go."
We left the library together. Walking beside someone who didn't judge me, who just wanted a simple conversation... it felt nice. For the first time in a long while, I could think about something else besides tests, routines, and schoolwork.
I started to think... maybe spending time with friends isn't so bad. Riven wasn't judging me, and for once, I could just laugh and talk about something other than school. It felt... normal, in a way I hadn't felt for a long time.
When I got back home, Mom called out, "Ariva! Me and your dad are going to visit your aunt. She lives in another town, so we might be gone for four or five days."
I blinked. Alone... in the house... for several days? A small smile crept across my face.
As soon as they left, I felt like a bird freed from its cage. I jumped onto the sofa, letting myself sink into it, and switched on the TV. For the first time in weeks, I didn't think about tests, coaching, or marks. I just... existed.
No studying tonight. No routines. Just me, the sofa, and the freedom to do absolutely nothing. It was strange, and wonderful, and maybe... exactly what I needed.
For the first time in a long time, I let myself enjoy it.
I didn't even notice when I fell asleep. One moment I was watching TV, the next... I woke up, blinking at the sunlight streaming through the window. I rolled over and glanced at the clock.
7:45 AM.
My eyes widened, and I yelped softly, slumping back onto the sofa.
"No... God, I'm late! So late for school!"
I scrambled to sit up, panic rising for a split second. My mind raced through all the usual morning routines, the alarm, the homework I still had to finish...
Then, I looked again at the calendar on the wall.
And froze.
Today... was Sunday.
I sank back into the sofa, letting out a long, relieved sigh. My panic melted into laughter. Of course... I didn't have school today. I could have slept forever and it wouldn't have mattered.
For a few moments, I just lay there, smiling to myself, feeling... free.
I grabbed my phone from the table and quickly called Lina first.
"Hey, Lina! Are you free today?" I asked, trying to sound casual even though I was excited.
"Ariva! Finally! Yeah, I'm free. What are you thinking?" she replied, her voice bright.
"I... I was thinking we could hang out. Maybe meet Riven too?" I added, biting my lip nervously.
"Of course! Let me call him. Wait a sec," she said, and I heard her talking softly in the background. A few moments later, she came back. "Okay, he's in. He said let's go to the same place we went the other day."
My heart lifted. The thought of spending the day with Lina and Riven made me feel... normal again. Not stressed, not tired, not pressured. Just... free.
I quickly got ready, tossing on comfortable clothes and slipping on my shoes. Today, I didn't have to follow routines or deadlines. Today, I could just enjoy.
I grabbed my bag, checked my phone one last time, and texted them: I'm ready, let's go!
I arrived at the meeting point, and after a few minutes, Lina and Riven showed up. Lina looked at the boy standing next to me, her eyes full of curiosity.
"Who is he, Areva?" she asked, folding her arms.
"Oh... he's my new friend," I said, trying to sound casual. "He's in my coaching class. We just met yesterday in the library.
Lina's eyebrows lifted slightly, and she gave me a look I couldn't quite read. "Hmm... okay."
I laughed a little to break the silence. "Come on, let's go. Today we're going to enjoy so much!"
And with that, we started walking together, the four of us. For a moment, everything felt normal... almost happy.
They started by heading to the roadside stall where Lina insisted on getting golgappas. The tangy water burst in their mouths, making their eyes water as they laughed uncontrollably. Riven joked about who could eat the most in a row, and Lina easily won, raising her arms in victory.
Next, they walked to the lake. The water shimmered under the sunlight as they sat on a stone bench, dipping their fingers into the cool ripples. Lina suddenly shouted, "Selfie time!" and pulled out her phone. They posed with wide smiles, then made silly faces, laughing so loudly that people turned to look.
Not stopping there, they rented colorful bicycles from a small shop near the lake. Riven challenged them to a race. They sped along the lakeside path, the wind rushing through their hair, shouting and laughing like little kids. Lina almost fell when she tried to overtake Riven, making everyone burst into laughter.
After the ride, they stopped at a cozy café. The place smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet pastries. They ordered iced coffees and chocolate muffins, snapping pictures of everything—cups, plates, and each other. Lina typed a caption for Instagram: "Best day ever."
Then they found an arcade nearby and jumped straight into the fun. They played air hockey, shouting every time someone scored. They moved to racing simulators, trying to beat each other's scores. The gaming zone echoed with their laughter and playful arguments.
Later, they discovered a mini photo booth inside the arcade. They squeezed inside, making funny faces for each shot. When the printed strip came out, they couldn't stop laughing at how ridiculous they looked.
Finally, they bought soft-serve ice creams and strolled along the path, watching the sun paint the sky orange. They sat on a low wall, licking their cones and chatting about random things, enjoying the calm after hours of fun.
The day ended, and my heart was still full of laughter. I walked home slowly, my headphones playing my favorite song, thinking about how good it felt to smile after so long. I reached the gate, pushed it open, and walked toward the door.
The moment I turned the key and stepped inside, everything froze.
My breath stopped in my throat.
"M... m... Mom?" I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.
She was standing there in the living room, arms crossed, eyes sharp like knives. Dad was sitting silently on the sofa, his face unreadable.
"You... you came back?" My voice shook.
"Yes," Mom said, her tone like ice. "Our work was done early." Then she took a step closer, her eyes piercing through me. "Now answer me, Ariva. Where. Did. You. Go?"
My mouth went dry. "I... I just went for a walk," I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady.
Mom tilted her head, a cold smile curling on her lips. "Really? Just for a walk?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Tell me honestly—did you study?"
I lowered my eyes to the floor, my hands trembling. "No... Mom... no."
The room fell silent for a second, the air so heavy it felt like I couldn't breathe.
"You skipped your studies?" she screamed, her voice echoing through the walls. Before I could react, her hand swung across my face. SLAP! The sting burned on my cheek, but what hurt more was the weight in my head.
Tears welled in my eyes instantly, and I ran—ran as fast as I could to my room. I slammed the door shut, locked it, and leaned against it, my body trembling. The tears I was holding back came flooding out. I slid down to the floor, clutching my knees to my chest, sobbing quietly.
Her words repeated in my head like a curse. You skipped your studies. You're wasting your life.
I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. I buried my face in my arms, whispering to myself, "Why? Why can't I just be happy for one day?"
The next day at school, everything felt heavy. My eyes were swollen from crying all night, and my smile... it was gone. I walked through the hall like a ghost, avoiding everyone's eyes.
During the break, I was sitting alone on a bench when I heard a familiar voice.
"Ariva!"
I looked up. It was Lina. She walked over, her brows furrowed with worry, and sat down beside me.
"What happened to you?" she asked softly. "Yesterday you were laughing, enjoying with us... and now, again, you're like this?"
I didn't answer. I kept staring at the floor, twisting the edge of my notebook between my fingers.
"Ariva," she said again, her tone more serious this time. "Tell me the truth. Why are you behaving like this? Is something wrong at home?"
Her words hit me hard. My throat tightened, but no sound came out. My mind screamed everything I wanted to say—Yes, something is wrong. Everything is wrong. I can't breathe, Lina. I feel like I'm drowning.
But all that came out was a whisper:
"I'm... fine."
She didn't believe me. I could see it in her eyes. But she didn't push further. She just sighed and said, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
I nodded silently, even though inside, I was falling apart.
I couldn't hold it in anymore. Her words broke something inside me, and before I knew it, tears were rolling down my cheeks.
"Lina..." My voice trembled. "I... I can't do this anymore."
She looked shocked. "What? Do what?"
I took a deep breath, my heart pounding so hard I thought she could hear it. "This... life. This pressure. Everyone expects me to be perfect. At home... I can't even breathe. Yesterday... Mom slapped me because I skipped studying for one day. Just one day, Lina! Do you know what that feels like?"
Her eyes widened. She didn't say anything, just kept listening as I poured everything out—the fear, the loneliness, the weight of expectations crushing me every second.
"They want me to score 90-plus, always the best. And I try, Lina... I really try! But when I fail, even a little, it feels like the whole world hates me. Like I'm worthless."
By now, my voice was breaking. I was shaking so badly that Lina grabbed my hand to steady me.
"Ariva..." she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears.
"I'm so tired," I said, staring at the ground. "Sometimes I think... maybe it's better if I just... disappear."
"Don't say that!" Lina almost shouted, grabbing my shoulders. People turned to look, but she didn't care. "Ariva, listen to me. You are not alone. Okay? You hear me? You're not alone."
I broke down completely then, sobbing into her shoulder as she held me tight. For the first time in months, I felt like someone saw me—not my marks, not my failures—just me.
The bell rang, and the bio period started. I wiped my face quickly before anyone could notice the tears. The teacher walked in, holding a thick book, and started teaching like every other day.
But my mind... my mind wasn't there. The words were floating around me, but I couldn't catch them. My focus was gone—completely lost. I kept hearing Mom's voice, "You skipped your studies... you're wasting your life." I felt a lump in my throat.
Suddenly, I heard my name.
"Ariva!"
I jerked up, my hands shaking. Everyone was looking at me.
The teacher's sharp voice cut through the silence. "Answer the question!"
I froze. I had no idea what the question was. My palms were sweating, my lips trembling.
"Speak up!" she shouted again. "You don't know, right? Of course you don't! What are you doing in this class then?"
The whole class went quiet. I felt something breaking inside me.
"Why are you wasting your parents' money? Why are you wasting everyone's time?" Her words hit me like knives. Then, she said the one thing that shattered me completely—
"Why are you even alive if you can't do anything?"
My breath stopped. The world blurred. My ears rang. Everyone stared, some laughing silently, others pitying me.
I wanted to disappear. Right there, right then.
School finally ended. The bell rang, but it felt like it was mocking me. My feet dragged all the way home, heavy like iron. When I opened the door, Mom was standing there, waiting.
She looked at me with sharp eyes and asked in a calm but cold voice, "So... how was your day?"
I forced a smile and said softly, "Good, Mom."
For a moment, I thought she believed me. But then she tilted her head and asked, "And what about your bio period?"
My heart skipped a beat. My mouth went dry. "H-How... how do you know about that?"
Her expression turned into pure anger. "Your teacher called me." Each word felt like a bullet. "They told me everything."
I stood frozen, my body trembling.
"You are useless," she spat, her voice louder now. "You're just wasting our money. Maybe God gave me the wrong child."
Maybe I deserved someone better—not you."
I felt my heart shatter into a thousand pieces. Tears filled my eyes, but she didn't stop.
"You broke our hopes... our expectations! So what do we do now, huh?!" Her voice was trembling with rage. "GET OUT!"
I whispered, "Get out?" like I couldn't believe what I heard.
"YES! GET OUT!" she screamed.
Something inside me cracked. I ran to my room, slammed the door, and locked it. My legs gave up, and I fell to the floor, crying so hard I couldn't breathe.
The words from my teacher... from Mom... echoed in my head like a curse.
"Why are you even alive?" "You broke our hopes..." "You're useless..."
I pressed my hands to my ears, but the voices wouldn't stop.
I couldn't take it anymore.
Slowly, I stood up, my legs weak like they belonged to someone else. My eyes wandered around the room, blurry from tears, until they stopped at the almirah.
I opened it with trembling hands and pulled out a long scarf. It felt soft against my fingers, almost comforting. I held it tightly, staring at it like it was the answer to all my pain.
Maybe this is the only way... I thought. If I'm gone, everything will be better. No more disappointment. No more shouting. No more pain.
I tied the scarf into a loop, my hands shaking uncontrollably. The room felt so silent... too silent. I dragged the chair to the center, climbed up, and looked at the ceiling fan.
My tears fell on the scarf as I whispered, "I'm sorry... Mom... Dad... I tried."
The voices in my head grew louder. My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
I slipped the loop around my neck and closed my eyes.
"Maybe this is peace."
The chair wobbled for a second before crashing to the floor with a hollow thud. The sound echoed through the empty house and then—silence. A silence so deep, it felt like the world had stopped breathing.
The scarf swayed gently under the ceiling fan. Her lifeless body hung motionless, her hair covering her face, hiding the storm that had once raged inside her.
On the study table, a single page fluttered in the soft breeze from the open window. The ink was smudged by tears, but the words were still clear:
I'm sorry... Mom... Dad... I tried, but now I am free. Maybe we will never meet again.
You deserve better than me. I'm just a loser... a failure.
Sorry for disappointing you. Sorry...
The note lay still as the daylight slowly faded, and the room—once.