I sat by the window that morning, watching the soft blur of clouds roll across a pale blue sky. Somewhere beneath my skin, I could still feel the weight of last night. Of truths I'd never spoken. Of tears I'd never shed in the open.
The house was alive again. My brothers' laughter echoed from the living room — football commentary, inside jokes, banter that felt like foreign language to me. Mama's voice floated in from the kitchen, sharp and weary, scolding the kettle for taking too long to boil. Life went on around me, like it always did. Fast. Loud. Unreachable.
I wore my best fake smile as I stepped out of the room, hoping maybe this time someone would see past it. No one did.
Just like every other day.
"Morning," I mumbled.
No one responded. Not even a glance.
I stood there for a second too long before I walked past them and left the house, the gate clanking shut behind me with a cold metallic thud. The air outside was hot and heavy, like the day itself was trying to smother me.
I headed to the bus stop, not because I had anywhere important to be, but because sitting still felt like drowning.
School wasn't in session yet, but the neighborhood felt busy. Students in joggers and oversized shirts walked past, headphones in, their worlds sealed. A girl laughed out loud with her friend by the roadside. I smiled at the sound, even though it made something ache inside me. The kind of ache you feel when you know you're on the outside of something beautiful.
I walked into a quiet café — the kind no one really noticed. I found a corner seat near the back and ordered the cheapest thing on the menu. The waiter barely looked at me, just scribbled down my order and disappeared.
I liked it here. The silence. The facelessness. The way no one knew me, so no one could hurt me.
I pulled out my phone, stared at it for a long moment. No new messages. No calls. Nothing.
I opened Instagram. Then closed it.
I opened my music app. Then closed it too.
What was I even looking for?
I stared out the window again. A boy was helping an elderly woman cross the street. He wasn't her son, just a stranger. But she smiled at him with a kind of trust I envied deeply.
Would anyone ever look at me like that? Like I mattered?
A soft sigh slipped from my lips, my eyes stinging for no reason. Maybe from the sunlight, maybe not.
The drink came. I barely touched it.
Everything felt hollow.
I don't know how long I sat there. Time had become blurry lately. It was like living in a fog, always halfway awake, halfway present.
My thoughts wandered back to the night before. That ache in my chest. That silent wish I had — for my brothers to just once walk into my room and sit with me. Not to fix anything. Just… be there. Let me cry. Let me feel their arms around me. Let me feel safe again.
But no. That version of them didn't exist. At least not for me.
And somehow, I was starting to believe they never would.
When I finally got up to leave, the sky had shifted into that golden evening hue — soft and melancholic. The streets were less busy now, the world slowing down.
I walked slower, my feet heavy.
By the time I reached home, the lights were already on. Laughter again. My name was not part of it.
I quietly let myself in and made my way to my room, unnoticed like always. I dropped my bag, locked the door, and let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
And just like that, I was safe again. In my space. In my mind.
I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring at nothing. Then I picked up my journal.
I hadn't written in days.
"I don't know what hurts more — being invisible in my own home or feeling like maybe that's all I'll ever be to anyone. I'm tired of pretending I don't notice. Tired of fighting so hard to be okay. I just want someone to see me. To really see me. Without me having to fall apart first."
Just as I was drifting deeper into the silence of my thoughts, there was a knock on the door.
"Elena?" It was Mom's voice.
I quickly wiped the corner of my eyes and sat up. "Yes, Mom?"
The door creaked open, and she stepped in gently. "What are you doing here alone? Everyone is in the living room playing and laughing."
I offered a small, rehearsed smile. "I was just tired. Needed a little rest."
She paused, taking a few steps toward me, her brows pulled slightly in concern. "You know if there's anything wrong… anything at all, you can talk to me, right?"
For a brief moment, my heart softened. The words I had buried so deep started to surface. I wanted nothing more than to fold into her arms, to let every weight I'd been carrying pour out in tears and unspoken words.
But just as quickly, reality hit me again. That quiet reminder: She already has enough to deal with.
So I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. "I know, Mom."
She gave me a soft look, like she wasn't entirely convinced, then turned toward the door. "Alright, just don't stay in here too long, okay?"
"Okay," I whispered as she left.
And just like that, the silence returned, louder than before.
I closed the book.
Closed my eyes.
Tried to sleep.
But the silence in my chest was louder than ever.