The silence of her room was heavier than ever that night.Reina sat by the window, the pale city lights brushing her tired face. The laughter and chatter from the day still echoed faintly in her ears — too loud to ignore, too distant to feel part of.
Home was supposed to be peaceful. But lately, it only reminded her how far apart everyone had drifted.
Downstairs, her parents were talking about something she couldn't hear, their voices blending into the television. Her little sister's laughter floated from her room — a cheerful melody, untouched by the weight Reina carried.
Reina stared blankly at her reflection on the glass — the faint outline of a girl she barely recognized anymore.How did everything change so quietly?Once, she and her sister used to spend hours talking, laughing over the smallest things. Now, even silence between them felt foreign.
Her chest ached — a dull, familiar ache.She turned away, lying down on her bed, closing her eyes. Sleep never came easy these days. Her mind wandered endlessly, replaying memories that refused to fade.
She wanted to change that. She wanted to rest.But the past — it never stopped whispering.
Why did it have to be me? she thought, gripping her blanket tightly.Why did life choose to break her so cruelly, and yet leave her to piece herself back together?
She didn't have an answer.She only had the pain — raw, persistent, and alive.
The next morning, the house moved like a rhythm she no longer belonged to. Her mother rushing through breakfast calls, her father checking messages before leaving, her sister chattering about her new high school life.
Reina sat quietly at the table, sipping her coffee. Nobody noticed her silence — or maybe they were just used to it by now.She smiled faintly, not out of joy but out of habit.
When they left, the house fell still again. Empty, but familiar.
She stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection. No makeup. No styled hair. Just a messy ponytail, tired eyes, and a girl trying to keep herself together.
She didn't have the energy to preen or pretend.Her thoughts were heavier than her body.
Why am I already so tired of living? she whispered to herself.And then, she remembered. The last memory. The one that still hurt too much to name.
Her breath caught in her throat.She looked down, blinking away the sting in her eyes.
She wanted to move forward — truly, she did. But her heart still lived halfway in the past. She still held onto the pain she swore she'd let go.
Still, something inside her stirred — faint, fragile, but real. A small pulse of hope.She was scared of failing again, scared of being consumed by her darkness, but… she was still trying.
She was evolving — slowly, painfully.Accepting and rejecting her truth, all in the same breath.
As she picked up her bag for the day, she whispered to herself,"Maybe… this time, I'll try again."
And with that, she stepped out into the light — quietly carrying her unseen scars, still learning how to heal.