It always started the same way.
The dark. The weight. The voice that wouldn’t come, no matter how hard she pushed. Her body, somewhere far beneath her, refusing every instruction her mind sent down.
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t scream. She could only wait for her eyes to remember how to open.
They did. Eventually.
They always did.
The left side of her body trembled. She pressed her right hand over it and waited. Beside her, Yogesh slept. She didn’t wake him.
Silent tears slid into her hair. She lay there, staring at the lamp burning steadily beside her, until her breathing found its way back.
After a while, she drifted off.
The lamp stayed on.
******
The backyard was her favorite kind of quiet.
Coffee. The swing. Green on all sides, the breeze doing the rest. Her eyes grew heavy.
“Hello, beautiful.”
She jolted. A shiver ran through her before she could stop it.
“Hey. Didn’t mean to startle you,” Yogesh said softly.
She smiled. Made a small movement with her eyes. I’m fine.
He knew better than to push. He always did. The rapid reflexes, the sudden tremors, the way her body reacted before her mind could catch up. He was used to her this way.
“Didn’t sleep well,” she said, once her heart settled.
“Take a nap.”
“I’m fine.”
“Get ready then. I’ll drop you at the salon.”
“Pick Suzanne too. We’ll go together.”
He pulled her close. “Ah. So my wifey wants to glow a little extra for her man.”
She rolled her eyes and tucked herself into him. He kissed her forehead.
******
At the salon, their usual attendant was on leave.
Suzanne leaned toward the staff before Akanksha could open her mouth. “My friend gets a little panicky. Just keep talking to her throughout, okay?”
“Suzzieeee…”
“Yeah, Akku…”
They laughed it off.
The new girl was warm and chatty, filling every silence before it could settle. Akanksha kept her eyes open as long as she could, focused on the light above, on the voice beside her, on anything that kept the room from feeling smaller than it was.
She tipped generously on the way out. Suzanne linked arms with her as they left, unbothered, unhurried.
Just another Thursday.
******
At dinner, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror. The salon glow was there. Skin bright, hair polished. She felt, for a fleeting moment, like a person who was allowed to be light.
Then her phone buzzed.
Her mother’s voice came through warm and unsuspecting.
“Akanksha, Suresh uncle’s family is in your city. I gave them your number. Be nice. Call and invite them over.”
“Okay, Mom.”
She kept her voice easy. Put the phone down. Picked up her fork. Looked at her food.
Didn’t eat.
******
After dinner, Yogesh turned on a movie.
Akanksha wasn’t there.
Her mind slipped back. To the girl, she was at twelve. To the week her mother left her at Suresh uncle and Rekha aunty’s home. A family emergency, no other option.
They were family friends, had been since before she could remember. A second home. A second family. Suresh uncle’s quiet warmth, Rekha aunty’s feeding-as-loving, Saloni Deedi, who made space for her in her bed, and Prateek Bhaiya, the older brother she never had.
The first day felt strange. New sounds. Unfamiliar dark. But Saloni Deedi pulled her close, and Rekha aunty kept her fed, and slowly, she exhaled.
She felt safe.
Yogesh laughed at something on screen and turned. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Little sleepy.”
They tucked in. He was out within minutes.
She lay there. Eyes open.
******
That night kept flashing.
Saloni Deedi had gone for wedding shopping. Rekha aunty and uncle were stuck in traffic, running late. Prateek Bhaiya had served her food quietly.
She finished eating. Went to bed. Closed her eyes.
And then something hit her throat. A weight she had no name for, pressing her into a darkness that suddenly felt alive.
Her eyes opened to what twelve-year-old eyes should never hold.
No word came. No sound either. Only one thought, rising slowly through the shock…
This is wrong.
Just that.
The scream found nowhere to go so it went inward instead.
It never came back out.
******
She had tried, once.
Saloni Deedi. The safest person in that house.
“Deedi…”
“Shhhh. Don’t say such things. You’re mistaken.”
She never forgot the difference in their eyes.
Prateek Bhaiya’s had been dark, filled with a terrifying knowing ownership.
Saloni Deedi’s were worse. Wide and pleading, begging Akanksha to lie so that Deedi’s own world wouldn’t break.
That was all it took.
Something inside her learned, quietly and permanently, that this was not something you say.
So that night she folded it. Neatly. Carefully. Like it never happened.
******
Now, decades later. Her own home. Beside the man who loved her.
Her throat went dry. Her body began to tremble.
Tomorrow, she would have to sit across from the one who took away her childhood. Smile, maybe. Because that is what second families do at dinner tables.
If Yogesh knew, would he still look at her the same?
Would the world believe her, or do what it always did… ask her to stay quiet?
Saloni Deedi had already answered that. At twelve. With a single shhhh.
She already knew.
So she did what she always did.
She tucked it back.
And went back to being fine.
******
Word Count: 897 (Excluding the title)
Image Courtesy: Worshae on Unsplash
******
If this story brought a hidden memory to the surface or if you’ve ever had to “fold” a part of yourself away, I would be honored to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Thank you for taking the time to read.
