Choking on Silence

The bus ride home blurred past Aanya like an unfinished sketch—faces, trees, voices—all there, but barely registering.

Her stomach growled again. She’d spent the day surviving on water and half a biscuit Nisha had smuggled under the desk. “You seriously didn’t eat again?” her friend had asked, worried.

Aanya had just shrugged, trying to smile. But the ache was spreading now—from her stomach to her chest.

By the time she reached home, the rain had started. Not heavy, just that whisper-soft drizzle that drummed gently on the leaves. It should have made her feel calm, but tonight, it only deepened the silence inside her.

She stepped into the living room. Rhea was lounging on the sofa, scrolling through her phone. Her nails were painted the colour of dry blood.

“Back so early?” she asked without looking up. “Didn’t have club today?”

“There was no club today,” Aanya replied quietly, dropping her bag near the stairs.

Rhea finally looked at her. “Well, that explains the sulking. Didn’t get enough attention at school either?”

Aanya stared for a moment, her heart pounding. She inhaled deeply—just like her mother had taught her—and walked into the dining area where her father was reading the newspaper, glasses perched halfway down his nose.

“Papa,” she began, her voice thin, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

Rajeev looked up, mildly surprised. “Of course, beta. What’s on your mind?”

She hesitated. Her fingers curled around the edge of the table.

“I—I haven’t been getting any money for lunch or art supplies. And I…” she swallowed, “…I think Rhea is telling you things that aren’t true. About me.”

There. She’d said it. The words hung in the air, trembling but real.

Rajeev blinked, frowning slightly. “What do you mean she’s telling me untrue things?”

“She said I was out late with friends. I wasn’t. She’s been saying things about me that—aren’t right.”

A moment of silence.

Then a laugh, light and dismissive, floated in from the doorway. “Rajeev, honestly—are we really doing this again?”

Rhea stepped in; arms folded. “She’s upset because I said no to money for some expensive art paper she wanted. I told her to use the ones already at home.”

“They’re already used,” Aanya said, her voice tightening.

Rajeev looked between them, uncomfortable. “I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding here. Aanya, if you needed something urgently, you should’ve asked me directly.”

“I’m asking now.”

He sighed. “Don’t take things so personally, beta. Rhea’s only trying to help you be more responsible. Maybe she just didn’t explain it properly.”

Aanya felt her face flush. Her chest tightened.

That wasn’t it.

It was never just a “misunderstanding.”

But as always, her father’s eyes had already gone back to the paper.

Rhea walked past her with a smirk. “Honestly, Rajeev. Teenagers these days—they turn everything into drama.”

The ache in Aanya’s chest boiled over. She turned sharply and walked toward the staircase.

As she reached the window, the drizzle caught her eye. She paused, just for a second.

Her hand touched the glass. The rain felt familiar.

Rainy days don’t come with rules.

Even rainy days feel warm when your heart is light.

Her eyes stung.

Today, the rain felt cold.