Aarohi stood at the doorway, gripping the strap of her school bag so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She wasn't sure if it was fear, confusion, or the echoes of a life she no longer lived echoing inside her.
Her mother walked beside her, adjusting Aarohi's hair gently.
"You look lovely," she whispered.
Lovely.
That word felt strange—almost unreal. In her first life, it was a word nobody used for her. She was "cute" sometimes, "quiet" always, but never "lovely."
Aarohi lowered her gaze. "Do I… have to go today?"
Her mother's eyes softened. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. But staying home too long will only make you feel more lost."
Lost.
Aarohi exhaled shakily. She already felt lost—lost in a new body, a new family, a new world that offered her comfort she didn't trust yet.
Her mother touched her cheek. "Try. Just try. I'll walk you to the gate."
Aarohi nodded weakly.
As they stepped outside, the morning wind brushed against her skin, cool and gentle. Neighborhood kids were already running toward the school bus, laughing, pushing each other playfully—so carefree, so innocent.
Aarohi watched them with a strange heaviness.
Where was this energy, this joy, this loudness in her first life?
She had always been the quiet one, the outsider, the girl walking behind everyone else.
Her mother squeezed her shoulder lightly. "Breathe."
She did.
The school came into view—bright, clean, inviting. A far cry from the strict, dull environment she remembered from her past life as a teacher. This school felt alive. It didn't hold the smell of stress and pressure. It smelled like chalk and warm sunlight.
Kids waved at Aarohi.
"Aarohi! You came!"
"We thought you were sick forever!"
"We saved your seat!"
Aarohi froze.
These kids… liked her?
One girl with two ponytails ran up and hugged her tightly. Aarohi stiffened with shock, unsure how to react.
"Aarohi, I missed you!" the girl said, squeezing her again.
Missed.
Her.
Someone missed her?
Her heart stumbled.
Her mother chuckled softly. "Your friends were very worried."
Aarohi looked at her mother, confused.
Friends.
The word felt foreign.
She walked slowly through the school gate, surrounded by excited voices, little hands tugging at her sleeve, children asking questions one after another.
"Will you sit with us today?"
"Do you remember the story you were writing?"
"Want to see my new stickers?"
"Can I show you the drawing I made?"
Aarohi couldn't keep up.
Her mind was overwhelmed.
Her heart was trembling.
Her eyes were stinging.
In her first life, classrooms were battlegrounds—colleagues whispering, students mocking her, teachers questioning her efforts, friends abandoning her when she needed them most.
Here…
children smiled at her.
Here…
she wasn't invisible.
She wasn't mocked.
She wasn't alone.
A sudden loud voice jolted her.
"AAROHIIII!"
Aarohi flinched.
But it was only Arin, running toward her from the senior building, carrying a tiffin box.
"You forgot your lunch," he said, slightly out of breath.
Aarohi blinked. "Oh… thank you."
He smiled awkwardly. "That's what brothers do."
Brothers.
In her first life, her brother had broken her tooth in anger.
Here… he brought her lunch.
She swallowed hard. "Arin… wait."
He turned.
Aarohi hesitated, then whispered, "Thank you… really."
Arin's eyes softened. He ruffled her hair gently. "Anytime, dummy."
The word wasn't an insult.
It was affection.
Her heart ached.
Aarohi's mother waved from the gate. "Have a beautiful day, sweetheart!"
Sweetheart.
She felt tears rise again.
Aarohi nodded quickly and rushed inside before emotions betrayed her.
---
The classroom was bright and colorful, students already settling into their seats. A small girl patted the empty chair beside her.
"Aarohi! Sit here!"
Aarohi walked slowly, feeling dozens of warm eyes on her—not judging, not mocking, not waiting for her to make a mistake.
The teacher walked in—a soft-spoken woman with kind eyes. She smiled warmly at Aarohi.
"Welcome back, dear. We all missed you."
That word again.
Missed.
Aarohi lowered her head, unable to handle the softness she never experienced before.
The teacher approached her gently. "If at any point you feel tired or overwhelmed, tell me, okay? You're not alone here."
Aarohi nodded, voice caught in her throat.
Not alone.
Why did those two words hurt more than anything else?
Class began.
Children laughed.
Books opened.
Pens scribbled.
And Aarohi…
…felt something shift inside her.
Something small.
Something fragile.
Something hopeful.
But hope was dangerous.
Every time she felt it in her first life, someone crushed it.
Aarohi stared at her notebook.
Her hand trembled as she wrote her name:
Aarohi
The letters looked beautiful. Soft. Flowing.
A name that carried no shame.
A name with no bullying attached.
No mocking laughter.
No broken-teeth memories.
A new name.
A new chance.
A new life.
She whispered it once more:
"Aarohi…"
Her chest warmed.
But just as she lifted her head with a tiny, uncertain smile…
A shadow passed her window.
And something cold pricked her spine.
Something in the air shifted.
Something from her old life.
Something she wasn't ready to face.
Her fingers froze around her pen.
The teacher called her name, but Aarohi didn't hear.
Her heartbeat slowed.
Her breath caught.
Her eyes stung.
The past…
was already searching for her.
--