Chapter 1: Before the beginning

5:45 AM, 27 June

Her alarm rang, dragging her back from dreamland and into the cruel reality of existence. Another day. Or was it… another school day?

Because for a girl who woke up at 5:45 AM and reached home at 2:30 PM, she was practically living in school. She stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, contemplating whether attendance was really worth sacrificing her remaining will to live.

It probably was. Unfortunately.

She dragged herself out of bed and got ready, skipping the shower because who showers at 5:45 in the morning? Animals, probably. Instead, she sprayed enough perfume on herself to convince everyone she had bathed. Problem solved! :D

Downstairs, her mother was packing her lunch while simultaneously trying to wake up her husband. Mr. Dwivedi, a businessman and, unfortunately for everyone involved, the father of two children - a teenage daughter and a genius son - was sleeping peacefully.

His snores were loud enough to make the walls wince. “Wake up!” his wife shouted. “Manas has school too!” No response.

She sighed and continued making Maggi for lunch. The girl stood near the doorway, watching the chaos with the exhausted expression of someone who had already lived through three Mondays that week. “Go wake your brother up,” her mother said.

She nodded. “Manas.” Nothing. “Manas.” Still nothing. She poked his shoulder. “Get up.” The blanket moved. “Five minutes.” “You said that five minutes ago.” “Then give me another five.”

She stared at him.

Sometimes she wondered how she was related to these people. “Get. Up.” Manas groaned dramatically and finally sat up.

By 6:25 AM, her grandfather had dropped her at the bus stop. As usual, his final words were:

“Study properly.”

She nodded. As usual, she had absolutely no intention of thinking about studying until she was forced to. The bus arrived. She climbed in, found a seat, put her bag beside her and promptly fell asleep. The ability to sleep anywhere was probably her greatest talent.

She woke up when the bus reached school. Immediately, she ran. Not because she was late. She just hated walking slowly. By the time she reached her classroom, her best friends were already there. “YOU DIDN'T HEAR WHAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY?”

She hadn't even put her bag down. “What?” And just like that, the gossip began. Perks of being friends with the unofficial news reporters of the school.

She was an introvert.

A very committed one in fact. She rarely started conversations, hated being called on in class and would rather write an entire essay than raise her hand and ask a teacher a question. And yet somehow, she knew most of the school's gossip.

She knew who liked whom.

Who had fought.

Who had broken up.

Who had been caught cheating.

Who was pretending not to like someone they obviously liked.

She knew everything.

Just didn't talk about it.

The school day passed the way school days usually did:

Loud.

Long.

Lame.

She got scolded for not submitting her notebook, laughed with her friends until a teacher glared at them, paid attention in exactly the classes she found interesting, and even stared at the clock during the others. At one point, someone asked her a question.

She answered correctly. The teacher looked surprised. She looked equally surprised.

Maybe she was smarter than she thought. Or, maybe the universe had decided to be generous for once.

By the time school ended, she was exhausted.

2:25 PM

She came home and immediately began telling her mother the latest school gossip. Her mother listened for approximately seven seconds. Then she walked away.

“...and then she said that he-” No response. “- and apparently they were-” Nothing. “Mumma?” Her mother continued doing whatever mothers did when their children were talking.

The girl sighed. “Never mind.” She went to shower. The cold water hit her warm skin. She pressed her back against the white tiled wall and closed her eyes. For a moment, there was nothing. No school. No voices. No homework. No family. Just water. Then the thought came.

“Why is it always me?” She opened her eyes. “Why was fate always harshest on people who only wanted to live peacefully?” She didn't ask for much. A quiet life. A little happiness. People who stayed. Maybe that was asking for too much. She turned off the shower before her thoughts could become any more dramatic. She changed into a soft black cotton T-shirt and matching pants and walked out of the bathroom.

Manas was waiting for her. He looked far too pleased with himself. “Sis!” “What?” “Today I beat up Hardik again!” She stared at him. “And Mansi smiled at me.”

Her face fell into her hands. “Why?” “Well…” Manas shrugged proudly. “He was roaming around in class. I didn't like it.” She stared at her little brother. Deadpan. “You punched someone because he was walking around?” “Yeah.” “Why didn't you just tell him to stop?” He shrugged. “If you had the guts to hit him, why didn't you have the guts to speak to him calmly?”

His grin disappeared. Not from guilt. But, from childish defiance. “Shut up, dumb saint.”

She blinked. She didn't deny it. She didn't agree either. She was too tired to argue with a middle-schooler who apparently solved problems with his fists.

She went downstairs, ate lunch and finished the sweet her grandmother had made.

Then she grabbed her phone. One reel. Then another. Then another.

Then -

“Oh.”

She looked at the time.

She had been scrolling for nearly an hour.

Oops.

She put the phone down and fell asleep.

5:30 PM,

Her tutor arrived. Peace? Died. She groaned when she heard the doorbell. Her teacher had the remarkable ability to make mathematics feel like a personal attack.

For the next few hours, she studied with a petulant pout, occasionally staring at the clock as though she could intimidate time into moving faster. Eventually, tuition ended.

Homework was completed. Dinner was approaching. For the first time that day, she was alone. She went into her room.

8:36 PM,

“Come eat!” Her father's voice came from downstairs. She came out reluctantly.

Dinner was ordinary. The television played a comedy sitcom in the background.

Nobody was laughing. Her father watched. Her mother ate. Grandparents talked to each other: the only 'un-toxic relationship' she knew about.

Manas complained about something. Her grandmother told him to stop. Her grandfather ignored everyone except his wife. She drank her milk and stared at the television. For some reason, she couldn't remember what episode they were watching. She probably wouldn't remember tomorrow either.

After dinner, she went upstairs. She locked her bedroom door. Her room was a mess. Her bed was unmade. Her desk was covered with books, pens, wrappers and random pieces of paper. At least the floor was clean. The AC worked. That was enough.

She sat on her bed for a while, staring at nothing. Then she reached beneath a pile of notebooks and pulled out her diary. A pink notebook. Covered in stickers. A few bits of glitter were still stuck to the cover. It looked childish.

She liked it that way.

She opened it and wrote.

10:45 PM

Dear Diary,

Today I smiled, but it felt heavy. I talked with him again. He was too affectionate, as usual. Almost makes me squeal if I weren't so critical about everything. His over-the-top affection throws me off again. I'm sure he's going to disappear for a few days and come back like nothing happened. Or they'll find out. I don't know which would be worse.

I hope he stays healthy. But I also hope he stays away from me.

Take care,