Fifth grade was supposed to be easy. Childhood was supposed to be soft.
But for Arya, her enemy wasn't a bully—it was her own reflection.
She was beautiful, and that was the problem.
It wasn't the boys who turned first—it was the girls.
Especially her best friend.
It started with a crush. Her friend liked a boy. But he—he liked Arya. She never asked for it. Never encouraged it. But her friend didn't care.
The betrayal was swift, cruel, and cold.
Rumors sprouted like weeds.
"Flirt."
"Attention-seeker."
"Fake."
"Stealing boys."
She tried to explain. To defend herself. She went to the teachers, even to the principal.
They listened, nodded, smiled gently—and did nothing.
Arya (thinking):
Why do adults only act when there's blood?
Words cut too. Why does no one see that?
In the hallways, eyes followed her like whispers.
In classrooms, silence was louder than slurs.
In her heart, something small and soft began to rot.
By the end of the year, she was done.
She didn't wait for the rumors to die.
She ran—transferred schools in sixth grade.
But the world didn't change. Only the buildings did.
Two years later, she left that school too.
By eighth grade, her smile had thinned. She had learned to wear silence like armor.
Then came the boy from her hometown.
He messaged her out of nowhere—said he remembered her, that he always wanted to talk.
She said okay. Talking was harmless, right?
He asked her to meet in town. Public. Safe. Familiar streets.
They walked, talked. He laughed a lot. She smiled out of politeness.
Then—his voice dropped. His steps slowed. His eyes changed.
She didn't even see the moment the monster replaced the boy.
He grabbed her wrist. Pulled her in.
She screamed. Loud.
Thank god someone heard.
Shouting. Running feet. A hand pulled the boy off.
Blood on her elbow. Her voice cracking.
Terror carved into her memory with a serrated edge.
Arya (thinking):
I trusted him because he knew my name. That was my mistake.
No more names. No more boys. No more trust.
Her parents didn't know the whole story.
No one ever did.
She kept it like a secret scar under her skin—visible only in the way she flinched when someone walked too close behind her.
Then came Shiva.
A new school. A new city. A fresh start, again.
She didn't expect much. Just wanted to survive.
He didn't approach her at first. Observed from a distance—serious, unreadable.
But eventually, he smiled. She smiled back.
Jokes turned to conversations.
Casual nods became warm familiarity.
It wasn't love. Not yet.
But it was safe. And for Arya, that meant everything.
What Shiva didn't know, though, was that he was the only one who never treated her like a prize or a problem.
Shiva (thinking, from that time):
She's different. Quiet but not timid. I like that.
But I shouldn't get involved. It's complicated. People talk. I don't want her to become a target because of me.
But the rumors didn't need him. They already had her name.
Some boy claimed he was dating her. He'd never even spoken to her.
Others joined in.
"She's easy."
"She's into everyone."
"A slut."
Boys she didn't know twisted DMs to show off.
Screenshots shared. Stories spun.
Arya (thinking):
I thought I was done running. I was wrong.
Even silence isn't safe anymore.
She started disappearing again—skipping days, deleting apps.
By tenth grade, she was gone.
But before she vanished completely, she and Shiva kept talking—online now.
Late-night texts. Thoughtful replies. Shared silences.
She told him everything. Not all at once, but piece by piece.
About the rumors. The names.
Even about the attempts.
He didn't judge. Didn't flinch.
Shiva (thinking):
I've seen pain. But hers… hers is layered.
No one should carry that alone.
Then, he told her the truth.
He liked her.
Not because of her beauty. Not because of her tragedy.
But because of who she was when she let him see her.
She hesitated. Then she said no.
Not because she didn't feel the same.
But because accepting it would confirm every label they'd ever slapped on her.
Arya (thinking):
I like him. But if I say yes, they'll say I was always like this. That I proved them right.
I can't do that. I can't become what they think I am.
Even if it means losing the only person who ever saw me.
They didn't fight. Didn't cry.
They just… stopped talking.
Shiva checked her status sometimes. She stayed online, but never replied.
He'd see her once in a while—her house not far from his.
Just for a second. A glimpse. And it would be enough to ruin his whole day—and yet somehow save it too.
And now, after years—after all of that—she was back.
Laughing beside him in a theatre.
Sitting with him at a mini-park in a mall.
He saw her. And he saw everything she was hiding.
And she? She saw him too. Not just who he was now.
But who he had been. And who he might still be.
Arya (thinking):
I was doing so well. I had buried it all. Now it's all coming back.
Him. The rumors. The fear.
I can't go through it again.
Shiva (thinking):
I don't deserve her. Not after what I did to get here. Not with the money I spent today. Not with the life I've built.
But god… just sitting next to her felt like breathing again.