Vacation had started.
For everyone—
It was freedom.
For me—
It felt like being left alone with my own thoughts.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Silence didn't just stay around me—
It followed me everywhere.
"Isha…"
My mother's voice broke through.
"Pack your things. Tomorrow we're going to your grandma's house."
For a moment—
I just looked at her.
Then slowly…
Something inside me eased.
Relief.
That night—
While packing my bag—
My hand paused.
A paper slipped out.
My 9th class marksheet.
I stared at it longer than I should have.
A reminder—
Of a version of me that felt distant now.
I folded it carefully.
As if I was folding away that memory.
The next day—
We reached the village.
The moment I stepped out—
Something changed.
The air felt lighter.
Softer.
Before I could take another step—
She pulled me into a hug.
"My sweetheart… you've grown so much," my grandma said.
"And you've become thinner too."
A small laugh escaped me.
"Stop it, grandma…"
Her hug stayed a little longer than usual.
And for some reason—
I didn't want to let go.
That day—
I forgot everything.
In the evening—
Voices filled the house.
"They'll get good marks," my parents said.
"She always does."
I stayed quiet.
Because I knew—
This time was different.
Inside me—
Something felt like it was slowly cracking.
At dinner—
I couldn't eat.
The food stayed untouched.
I walked out.
Sat on the veranda.
The night was calm.
But my thoughts weren't.
"What if I fail…?"
The question didn't leave.
"Isha…"
My grandma sat beside me.
Holding a plate.
"What is my sweetheart doing here?"
I didn't answer.
She didn't ask again.
She just started feeding me.
Slowly.
Gently.
Like nothing had changed.
And that's when it broke.
Tears slipped down before I could stop them.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
I shook my head.
She smiled.
"Marks don't decide who you are," she said.
"We believe in you… not your grades."
Her words didn't feel big.
But they stayed.
Like something steady…
in the middle of everything unstable.
Then came the result day.
My hands felt cold.
My heartbeat refused to slow down.
"Please… just don't let me fail," I whispered.
The result was out.
I searched for my number.
Once.
Twice.
And then—
I found it.
Passed. 70%.
The breath I didn't know I was holding—
finally left me.
My parents smiled.
"Good job," they said.
I smiled back.
But somewhere—
I knew their expectations had been different.
A few days later—
They asked,
"Which group? Which college?"
"Science," I said softly.
"And… I want to stay here. Not a hostel."
They agreed.
A new college.
A new place.
Maybe—
a new version of me.
The first day—
I didn't go.
Then days passed.
Twenty days later—
I finally stood at the college gate.
My fingers tightened around my bag again.
The same feeling.
Crowds.
Groups.
People who already belonged.
"I'm late…"
I thought.
"Everyone has already found their place."
For a second—
I almost turned back.
But I didn't.
I took a step forward.
Because this time—
I didn't want to run away.
Even if I was scared.
And maybe…
this time—
something would be different.