The rain poured down heavily, sheets of water drumming on the rooftops and bouncing off the streets. Linda trudged through the downpour, her school bag clutched tightly to her chest, her feet dragging as if every step carried the weight of her sorrow. Her uniform clung to her skin, soaked through, and her shoes squelched miserably with every step.
Tears streamed down her face, though it was hard to tell where the rain ended and her pain began. The scene from school replayed in her head like a cruel film she couldn't turn off. Her classmates had ganged up on her during kung fu class, fists and feet flying in a flurry of cruelty. The sting of their blows wasn't half as sharp as the sting of betrayal. Worst of all, the teacher had watched and done nothing—just turned away as if she were invisible.
Linda bit her lip, but the throbbing bruise there reminded her she was already broken. The emptiness of the streets made her feel smaller, lonelier. Even the sound of the storm couldn't drown out the echo of laughter that had mocked her in the dojo.
Her thoughts wandered, unbidden, to the past. To her childhood in the Lee household, filled with laughter, warmth, and love. She had always felt like part of the family, safe and loved. But now… now she felt like she was fading into nothing. The more she thought about it, the more it hurt, until even the rain seemed powerless to wash the ache away.
By the time she reached the Lee house, hours seemed to have passed. She pushed open the door, and there they were—Mr. and Mrs. Lee—pacing anxiously in the living room.
"Linda!" Mr. Lee's voice cracked as he rushed forward, wrapping her in his arms. He didn't care that her clothes were dripping wet. He only pulled her closer, holding on as if afraid she might slip away.
Mrs. Lee's eyes filled with tears when she caught sight of Linda's bruised lip. Her hand rose, trembling, brushing gently across her cheek. "Oh, sweetheart… what happened to you?" she whispered.
Linda couldn't answer. Her blank gaze slid away from them both, the exhaustion in her eyes deeper than words. She accepted the hot tea her mother pressed into her hands. The mug shook as she held it, steam curling into her face, but the warmth did little to ease the cold in her chest.
"I'm fine, Dad," she murmured, though the lie sat heavy on her tongue.
Without waiting for their protests, she turned and climbed the stairs, each step creaking under her weight. A soft click followed as her bedroom door closed behind her, leaving her parents exchanging a worried glance.
Inside her room, silence pressed down on her. She locked the door, slid against it, and let the sobs she had held in all day finally break free. Her frustration and pain boiled over until she screamed into the empty air, the sound muffled by the storm still raging outside.
Hours seemed to pass before the tears dried. She forced herself to her feet, cleaned the blood from her lip, and changed into dry clothes. Sitting on her bed, she stared at the wall blankly, her mind spiraling with questions she couldn't answer.
Her room was her only comfort. Painted in soft lavender and white, it felt like a refuge from the world outside. The patchwork quilt on her bed carried the scent of fresh laundry, the pillows stacked high in deep plum shades. Her bookshelf, overflowing with novels, textbooks, and her favorite manga, stood tall against one wall. By the window sat her desk, scattered with notebooks, a sleek laptop, and a corkboard crowded with photos and scribbled quotes. This was the place where Linda could breathe, but even here tonight, the shadows of her day followed her.
Downstairs, Mr. and Mrs. Lee sat in silence. The ticking of the wall clock filled the living room. Both of them knew something was terribly wrong, but Linda's quiet walls felt impossible to climb.
"Let her rest," Mr. Lee finally said, though his voice was heavy. "Maybe tomorrow she'll talk."
The next morning, Linda came down to the smell of frying eggs and warm toast. Mrs. Lee had prepared her favorite breakfast in hopes of lifting her spirits.
"Good morning, dear," her mother greeted, her voice soft with concern.
Linda managed a weak smile. "I'm okay, Mom."
But Mr. Lee wasn't convinced. He set down his newspaper, his stern eyes fixed on her. "Linda, we know something's wrong. You can't keep this inside forever. What's happening at school?"
Linda hesitated, her fork halfway to her mouth. For a moment, she considered keeping quiet, but her father's eyes—filled with worry yet patience—broke down her walls. Slowly, she began to talk. She told them everything. The fights, the bullying, the indifference of the teachers. Every detail spilled out, her voice trembling but steady.
By the time she finished, Mr. Lee's hands were clenched into fists on the table. His face had darkened with anger, though he held it in for her sake. "We'll go to the school tomorrow and sort this out," he said firmly.
Linda's eyes widened in panic. "No, Dad, please! Don't. It'll only make things worse."
His expression softened, and he reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Okay, dear. But promise me you won't face this alone. We're here for you. Always."
Her lips quivered into a small smile, and she nodded.
That night, after Linda had gone to bed, Mr. Lee sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the floor. His thoughts were heavy, the words "I'm fine" ringing in his ears like a shield his daughter wore too often.
Mrs. Lee, folding laundry nearby, noticed the deep lines in his forehead. She set the bed cover aside and moved to sit beside him, resting her hand gently on his shoulder. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked softly.
"It's Linda," he admitted, his voice breaking. "She's always in pain, but she keeps pretending she's fine. And I… I feel like I'm failing her."
Tears glistened in Mrs. Lee's eyes as she pulled him into her embrace. "I'm worried too. Every time she comes home hurt, she says she just fell. It's breaking my heart." She drew in a steady breath, her grip tightening. "I think we should talk to the principal. Maybe they can put an end to this."
Mr. Lee frowned. "You know Linda wouldn't want that. She begged me not to interfere."
"I don't care what Linda wants right now," Mrs. Lee said firmly. "I care about her well-being. If you're too afraid to stand up for her, then I'll do it myself."
Her husband looked into her eyes and saw the determination there. He sighed, defeated but grateful for her strength. "Okay," he said finally. "We'll go together. But let's keep it between us for now. I don't want to make her worry."
Mrs. Lee nodded. "Friday then. She comes home early. We'll go after."
And for the first time that night, a faint smile tugged at Mr. Lee's lips.
---