That morning, I didn't wake up late.
I woke up broken.
The mirror didn't lie. My eyes were swollen, my face pale, my smile missing.
Because last night I had cried.
And not the soft, silent kind.
The messy, heart-shaking kind.
I cried for every corner of my life that felt wrong—
For my family.
For Anisha.
For Ayesha.
For… him.
Yes, him. The boy I promised myself I wouldn't care about, the boy I tried so hard to erase from my heart. But the truth is, some names just echo louder than others.
And then there was Ayesha.
Her words haunted me all night:
"I never wanted to leave him, Siya. It was always the situation. Ayyan never tried to understand me. Now he's moved on, ignoring me like I never existed. My parents fight every day. I'm done."
She wasn't lying. I saw it in her eyes when school started again. She wasn't the same Ayesha with the sharp tongue and attitude. She looked tired. Wounded. Done.
And I felt her pain like it was my own. I wanted her misunderstandings with Ayyan to clear, for him to realize how much she still needed him.
But wishing doesn't change reality.
So I cried for her too.
By morning, I told myself: Crying is the worst way to start a day.
And the universe laughed in my face.
---
The sun felt cruel as I walked to school, its rays stabbing my swollen eyes. I wanted to disappear into the ground before anyone could notice.
Inside class, Siya (Division A, my quiet mirror image) came to me.
"Are things okay between you and Anisha?" she asked softly.
I forced a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "We're fine. We'll manage."
She hesitated. "Is it… because of me?"
My heart clenched. If only it were that simple. "No. Anisha drifted first. She's closer to her classmates now… maybe she even forgot me."
Saying it hurt more than keeping it inside.
I got lost in my thoughts, and Siya clapped softly to bring me back. "Hey, are you okay?"
"Yes," I lied, brushing it off. "My eyes just hurt because of the sun."
She laughed lightly. "Do you know, I can't even see the board from the last bench? But it's Vani ma'am, so I'm too scared to say anything."
I smiled at her honesty. "Then we'll swap. I'll talk to ma'am, and both our problems will be solved."
She looked relieved. And for a moment, I believed today wouldn't be so bad.
I was wrong.
---
After Vani ma'am's usual 'study or die' lecture, I raised my hand.
"Ma'am, can you change my seat?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"
I explained everything, even Siya's problem.
But when ma'am asked Siya directly, she froze—then shook her head. "No, ma'am. I'm fine where I sit."
Silence fell.
I blinked at her, betrayal slicing through me. Why was she denying it now?
Vani ma'am's tone turned sharp. "So, you lied? If you wanted a new seat, you should have said it. Don't drag others in."
My chest tightened. "I'm not lying," I whispered.
Her voice boomed. "Then she's lying."
Everyone stared.
And just like that—my control snapped.
Tears fell.
"I'm not lying!" I choked, voice trembling.
The more I tried to explain, the less they believed me. Vani ma'am shook her head, disappointed. "There's no need to cry over seats."
But it wasn't about the seat anymore.
It was about being invisible. Unheard. Betrayed.
She changed my seat anyway. Second bench. Middle row. Next to Aryan, the boy everyone found annoying.
And in that moment, I hated everything.
Myself most of all.
---
I kept my head down, trying to hide the tears. But the words slipped out, broken.
"Ma'am, it's not your fault."
The way my voice cracked—it sounded funny. Too funny.
The class laughed. Even ma'am smiled.
And I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.
Aryan leaned in awkwardly. "Don't cry… I won't disturb you, promise."
Guilt stabbed me deeper. He thought my tears were because of him.
I was drowning in humiliation.
---
When class ended, Siya tried to talk to me. I shoved her hand away. "Don't touch me. Stay away."
Her betrayal burned too deep.
Anisha glanced at me from across the room. But she didn't come. She just watched… and then walked away with her new friends.
I wasn't even worth her effort anymore.
And then… he came.
Ayyan.
He saw me, cheeks wet, eyes red. His smile was small, almost teasing.
"Siya," he said gently, "don't be a crybaby. You shouldn't cry for little things."
My heart cracked.
I looked up, voice raw. "I know."
He gave me one last glance… and left.
Taking my last piece of strength with him.
---
When the class emptied, I sat frozen, drowning in shame. Until someone touched my hand.
"Shela."
Her voice was unexpectedly kind. "It's okay. Vani ma'am is evil anyway."
I shook my head. "No… it was my fault. I acted like a baby."
She wiped my tears. "Sometimes it happens. Honestly, everyone was shocked. You're always smiling, always bold. No one expected to see you cry. That's why they laughed—not to mock you, but because they didn't know what else to do."
For the first time, Shela wasn't my enemy.
But her comfort couldn't erase the pain.
---
At home, I stared at my reflection.
Crybaby.
That's what they would remember me as.
The girl who cried over a seat.
The girl who couldn't hold herself together in tenth standard.
The girl who embarrassed herself in front of everyone… including him.
My phone buzzed. A message from Anisha.
I didn't open it.
Instead, I splashed water on my face again and whispered to the mirror:
"God, why am I so stupid?"
Because tomorrow, no matter what I did—whether I showed up or stayed away—everyone would talk.
And the worst part?
His voice wouldn't stop replaying in my head.
Don't be a crybaby.
Soft. Almost protective.
And maybe that hurt more than anything else.