Mera's last conscious thought before the darkness consumed her was a searing rejection of her existence. If this is what life is-this constant sacrifice, this unending pain-then I want no part of it. Let me return to the ashes from whence I came.
But the universe, it seemed, had other plans.
She didn't return to ashes. Instead, she was given another life, another identity. The slate was wiped clean, the memories of Mera, of Lily, of that agonizing choice, all gone. Yet, deep within her, her heart remembered. It remembered the ache of loss, the sting of betrayal, the weight of sacrifice.
She was born Anika.
Anika's mother, Elena, gazed at her newborn daughter with a mixture of love and unease. Anika was beautiful, with wide, intelligent eyes and a delicate frame. But from the moment she was born, there was something... different about her. Unlike other babies, Anika rarely cried. She didn't coo or gurgle. She simply observed the world with an unnerving stillness.
As Anika grew, Elena's worries deepened. Anika was a quiet child, content to spend hours alone, reading or drawing. She spoke when spoken to, but never initiated conversation. She was polite, obedient, and exceptionally bright, but she never laughed. Elena couldn't remember a single instance where she had seen her daughter truly happy.
"She's like a little ghost," Elena confided in her husband, David, one evening. "She's here, but she's not here, you know?"
David sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, dear. I worry about her too. But she's healthy, she's smart... maybe she's just a serious child."
But Elena couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
When Anika turned five, she made an unusual request. "Mom, Dad," she said one evening, her voice soft but firm, "I would like my own room."
Elena and David exchanged surprised glances. "But anika, we like having you close," Elena said gently. "We love tucking you in at night."
"I understand," Anika replied, "but I need a space that is... my own."
Reluctantly, Elena and David agreed. They converted a spare room into a cozy haven for Anika, filled with books, art supplies, and soft toys. But even with her own space, Anika remained distant, a puzzle they couldn't solve.
The following year, they enrolled Anika in kindergarten, hoping that socializing with other children would bring her out of her shell. But Anika remained on the fringes, observing her classmates but never truly engaging. She excelled academically, impressing her teachers with her intelligence and focus, but she didn't make friends.
One afternoon, Elena met with Anika's teacher, Ms. de Leon, for a parent-teacher conference.
"Anika is a remarkable student," Ms. de Leon said, smiling warmly. "She's incredibly bright and picks up concepts quickly. She's also very well-behaved and respectful."
"But?" Elena prompted, sensing the hesitation in Ms. de Leon's voice.
"But... she's very quiet," Ms. de Leon admitted. "She doesn't participate much in class discussions, and I haven't seen her interact with the other children. She usually sits by herself during recess, reading or drawing."
Elena's heart sank. "We've noticed that too," she said. "We're worried about her. She doesn't seem happy."
Ms. de Leon nodded sympathetically. "Have you considered talking to a pediatrician or a child psychologist? It might be helpful to rule out any underlying issues."
Elena took Ms. de Leon's advice and scheduled an appointment with Dr. Ramirez, a respected pediatrician known for his expertise in child development.
During the appointment, Dr. Ramirez conducted a thorough physical examination of Anika, asking her questions about her health, her habits, and her feelings. Anika answered politely and thoughtfully, but her responses were brief and devoid of emotion.
After the examination, Dr. Ramirez sat down with Elena and David in his office.
"Anika appears to be perfectly healthy physically," he said. "However, I am concerned about her emotional development. She seems withdrawn and detached, and she doesn't express emotions appropriately for her age."
"We've noticed that too," Elena said, her voice filled with worry. "What do you think is wrong?"
"It's difficult to say for sure without further evaluation," Dr. Ramirez replied. "It could be a number of things. It could be a personality trait, a sign of anxiety or depression, or even a mild form of autism spectrum disorder. I recommend that you take Anika to a child psychologist for a comprehensive assessment."
Elena felt a knot of fear tighten in her stomach. "Autism?" she whispered. "Do you really think it could be that?"
"It's just a possibility," Dr. Ramirez said gently. "But it's important to rule it out. A child psychologist can conduct a series of tests and interviews to determine the cause of Anika's behavior and recommend appropriate treatment."
The thought of her daughter having a psychological disorder terrified Elena, but she knew she had to do everything she could to help Anika. She thanked Dr. Ramirez and promised to schedule an appointment with a child psychologist.
A few days later, Anika sat in a brightly colored room, surrounded by toys and games. Across from her sat Dr. Cruz, a kind-faced child psychologist with a warm smile.
"So, Anika," Dr. Cruz said, her voice gentle, "your parents tell me you're a very smart girl. Do you like school?"
Anika nodded. "It is... informative."
"What's your favorite thing to do at school?"
"Observe."
Dr. Cruz raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Observe? What do you observe?"
"The other children. The teachers. The way they interact."
"And what do you think about what you see?"
Anika paused, her brow furrowed.
"They seem... chaotic. Driven by emotions I do not understand."
Dr. Cruz smiled. "Emotions can be confusing, can't they? Do you ever feel... sad? Or angry? Or happy?"
Anika considered the question carefully. "I understand the concepts," she said. "I can identify them in others. But I do not... experience them in the same way."
"Do you ever wish you did?"
Anika shrugged. "I do not know what I am missing."
After several sessions with Anika, Dr. Cruz met with Elena and David to discuss her findings.
"Anika is a very intelligent and insightful child," Dr. Cruz said. "She has a remarkable ability to observe and analyze the world around her. However, she does struggle with emotional expression and social interaction."
"So, what does that mean?" Elena asked, her voice trembling. "Does she have autism?"
"No," Dr. Cruz replied. "Anika does not meet the criteria for autism spectrum disorder. She doesn't have any of the repetitive behaviors or communication difficulties that are characteristic of autism. However, she does have some traits that are consistent with a condition called alexithymia."
"Alexi-what?" David asked, confused.
"Alexithymia," Dr. Cruz repeated. "It's a condition characterized by difficulty identifying and describing one's own emotions. People with alexithymia often have a limited range of emotional expression, and they may struggle to understand the emotions of others."
"Is it serious?" Elena asked, her voice filled with anxiety.
"It can be," Dr. Cruz said. "Alexithymia can lead to social isolation, depression, and other mental health problems. However, it is treatable. With therapy and support, Anika can learn to identify and express her emotions more effectively."
Elena felt a wave of relief wash over her. It wasn't autism, but it was still something that needed to be addressed. "What kind of therapy do you recommend?" she asked.
"I recommend a combination of individual therapy and family therapy," Dr. Cruz said. "In individual therapy, Anika can work on identifying and expressing her emotions in a safe and supportive environment. In family therapy, you and David can learn how to communicate with Anika more effectively and help her develop her emotional intelligence."
Elena and David agreed to follow Dr. Cruz's recommendations. They enrolled Anika in therapy and began attending family therapy sessions themselves. But despite their best efforts, Anika remained distant and emotionally detached.