That morning, the town square transformed into a pulsating stage.
A crowd of university students filled the space, carrying colorful banners and posters detailing their demands.
Their footsteps were perfectly synchronized, echoing like a drumbeat of war!
Leaflets were distributed into the hands of strangers, while the wind carried their chants to the most desolate corners of the streets.
The calm city was now vibrating with something much bigger than routine.
It was a peaceful, yet impossible-to-ignore demonstration.
"Whoah, look at that! Peeps everywhere," Jerem Quinnel whispered, his eyes wide.
"Yo, why they yelling like that?" asked Daega, curious.
"Maybe they got something important to say. But I'm kinda confused, tho," Jerem replied, grasping his friend's hand.
Unsure if he was scared,
or mesmerized?
At the edge of the crowd, a young girl named Xie-xie stood stiffly. Only a fourth-grader, she hugged her bag tightly, trying to hide from the loud voices she didn't yet understand. The wind tugged at her black school uniform, making her look like a tiny, lonely point in the distance
"What's all the drama about?" Xie-xie murmured innocently.
Silence followed for a moment. Xie-xie looked at the chanting crowd. Watching the shouting students, a cold realization washed over her. They were heroes for speaking out.
To Xie-xie, it was just a painful memory.
Meanwhile, far from the city's chaos, lived Nazma. At twelve years old, she already carried the weight of a world that shouldn't have been her burden. While the students in the city were hailed as heroes for speaking up, Nazma's bravery in her small village had only made her an outcast.
Nazma lived in a small village, far from the city. She carried a world of pain.
She had tried to be brave once. Asking for children to have a voice. But that bravery came with a price.
The village saw her as trouble. Her bravery became her sin.
In a place that only cared about manners, her voice became a threat. To them, she wasn't brave. She was just trouble.
Friendly faces turned into whispering shadows. Neighbors kept their children away from her.
Everywhere they went, Nazma's family met only cold. Silent stares.
In her village, manners were a wall you never touched. Kids bowed. Voices stayed small. Life was orderly, but it suffocated her. Nazma had crossed the line, and there was no going back.
That afternoon, Nazma gazed at the twilight sky.
"Why is it like this? Why are all of them like that? Is this fair?" Her mouth wanted to speak, but their suffocating gazes held her back.
The adults were cruel. But the worst part? They brought up someone who wasn't there to fight back. They attacked her where it hurt the most.
They spoke of manners, but why did they only bring up my little brother? It is as if I... as
if I don't deserve to ask, don't deserve to be acknowledged.
Her mind was too crowded. Her heart was a storm. Nazma just needed a place to cry and be angry without anyone pointing fingers. She needed to be heard.
She needed to run away. So she went online.
Her old account was a quiet, empty place. There, she could write anything. No one could stop her.
But her joy was short. One notification changed everything: Mei-mei was angry.
Mei-mei's comment was sharp and cold. It felt like a slap. Nazma didn't want to start a fight; she just wanted to be heard. But now, her screen only showed the truth: she was losing her best friend.
The tension followed her to school. In the hallway, Mei-mei was sweeping the floor, her eyes glistening with tears. "Why did she talk like that, as if I have no feelings?" Mei-mei whispered to herself.
As Nazma walked past, the silence felt like a wall. Everyone else was laughing, but she was alone. She wanted someone to listen, but her best friend was too angry, and the village only watched her from a distance, and Harvey... oh, Harvey.
Harvey. He used to be someone she missed, but now he was just a bitter shadow. When Nazma told him her story, he didn't listen. He judged her. He said she was overreacting. His soft words crushed her chest, leaving a pain that was hard to swallow.
Nazma froze. She felt pierced to her soul. For a twelve-year-old, this much pain was too much to carry.
School was a labyrinth now. Nazma walked with her head low. She looked at Mei-mei's seat, but her friend wouldn't even look back. Mei-mei was still angry. But the worst part? Nazma was starting to feel like the villain of her own story.
The day dragged on until the final bell, leading into an afternoon that felt even more stifling. The sunlight danced over stacks of papers as Nazma arranged files in front of the teacher's desk. Simon stood beside her, his presence a small, soothing warmth.
Then came the cold. Mei-mei stood like a statue. "Your face doesn't match your words," she said. Her voice was sharp enough to bleed.
Nazma's pen stopped mid-air. Simon looked at her: Be patient. 'Wrong place,' Mei-mei added coldly. The small comment felt like a heavy blow. Nazma's hand shook.
"O-oh... yes. I'm sorry." She felt trapped. Every breath she took was being judged. This quiet war was exhausting.
As Xie-xie walked home later that evening, her path led her past a small house. She saw a girl sitting by the door, hugging her knees. It was Nazma. Xie-xie slowed her pace, sensing the storm inside the older girl, but she didn't stop. She didn't know Nazma, but she felt her pain.
Nazma lifted her head and drew a long breath. Air had become a luxury. It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing her chest, tighter with every heartbeat. The world around her faded. "To whom should I tell this feeling?"
"I despise this life," she whispered. The wind carried her words away, but the fire stayed in her heart. She didn't shake. She didn't cry. She only looked ahead with a cold, steady gaze. If the world refused to give her a voice, then she would break every rule that kept her silent.
"I think... I know how to end all of this."
The twilight before her was crimson, stabbing her with the sharpness of old contempt.
Without a sob, a blistering heat rose within her, followed by a crushing silence. She felt a deep sense of shame for everything that had happened. But then, she offered a small smile—one that carried a long-planned resolve. She was finally ready to let go.
"Goodbye, Mei-mei. Our friendship ends here."
Nazma pressed a hand to her chest. Her eyes glistened with tears as she finally let go of the bond that had become too heavy to carry. The burden was gone.