It was the first day of spring.The kind of morning that poets romanticize —where petals drift down like blessings,and wraps around your skin like a gentle promise.But inside me?Winter.The kind of winter that doesn’t freeze your skin —but your voice, your joy, your very soul.I sat on the old white stone bench behind the library —my secret place.A place where no one looked,and I didn’t have to pretend.The cherry blossoms had started blooming above it,but I couldn’t lift my head to notice.My hands gripped my sleeves.Not from the cold.But from the ache of holding too much for too long.There’s ...Read More

2nd Day — Lost in Chalk Dust and MemorySecond day of spring.The sun was softer today.Not warm enough to old sadness,but kind enough to sit beside it.I was in class.Second row from the window.Maths — a subject that never made sense to me, just like most things in life.I tried to focus.The teacher’s voice sounded like distant thunder.Equations danced on the board,but all I could see were his words from yesterday…> “Even sadness can bloom.”And just like that, I was back on that bench behind the library.Back in that moment —when I wasn’t invisible anymore.I didn’t hear my name.Didn’t ...Read More

4th Day — The Silence We SharedSpring wore a softer color today.The sky was pale, almost shy — like too was learning how to feel again.I wore silence. Again.The world outside the window buzzed with laughter, footsteps, and papers fluttering like anxious birds.But inside the library, everything stood still.He sat beside me.No "hi", no "hello", no awkward smiles.Just his presence.Warm.Assured.Like he knew this silence wasn’t emptiness — it was healing.Minutes passed. Five, maybe more.Then, without looking at me, he whispered,> “Silence is loud when two people share it.”His voice didn’t disturb the quiet — it became part of it.I ...Read More