How Her Voice Disappeared
For a long time, Semina had not cried in front of anyone.
She had mastered silent suffering — the kind that stays behind the eyes, the kind that smiles when spoken to.
But that afternoon, everything broke.
She and Selene had planned something simple — just visiting the nearby temple after school. A small escape. A normal day. They had laughed at first, sharing stories, complaining about assignments, talking about small, meaningless things that felt safe.
Inside the temple courtyard, the noise of the street faded. Bells rang somewhere in the distance. The smell of incense hung in the air. Selene was still talking when she noticed Semina had stopped walking.
Semina was staring at the idols — not with devotion, not even with thought. Just… staring. Her face looked blank, like someone who had walked too far inside their own head and forgotten the way back.
Then Selene asked softly, "Are you okay?"
And Semina didn't know why — but the answer rose to her throat like a storm.
The words came out tangled. The sentences unfinished. But the tears… the tears did not stop.
Sentences came in fragments after that.
About the house.The workshop.The cramped room.The clock that ticked too loudly at night.The fear that never left.The way no matter how much she tried, she kept failing.
"And they keep saying it's not about me," she whispered, her voice breaking between breaths. "They say, 'Just focus on your studies. This has nothing to do with you.'"
Her fingers tightened in Selene's sleeve.
"But how…?" she choked softly. "How is it not about me when we all sleep in one room? When I can hear every argument? When I see mom crying? When dad is angry ,stressed and getting drunk evernight all the time? When the lights never go off and the clock keeps ticking like it's reminding me I'm running out of time?"
Her breathing turned uneven again.
"They say I'm just making excuses… but my head doesn't stop. Even when I open my book, I'm still there — in that room, with those sounds, those words. I try to study, Selene. I really try. But my mind feels tired before I even start."
The tears fell harder now, not dramatic, just helpless.
"I don't know how to be normal when nothing feels normal."
Selene didn't answer with solutions. She only held her tighter.
And somehow, that silence understood her more than advice ever could
She cried on Selene's shoulder for hours.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Just deeply.
Selene didn't interrupt. She just stayed.
And for the first time, Semina let someone see how tired she truly was.
Days passed.
Semina continued learning to adjust — to the workshop that didn't feel like home, to the cramped room, to the constant ticking clock, to the smell of metal and damp walls.
She was adjusting outside.
But inside, she was falling.
This was her final year of high school. The year that mattered. The year teachers said defined futures.
Her pre-board results came.
She had failed.
Again.
This time, she didn't even have the energy to react. No tears. No panic. Just emptiness. A dull acceptance, like she had expected it somewhere deep inside.
She told herself it would pass. Just another exam. Just another mistake.
But a week later, when she was slowly trying to return to routine, the call came.
From school.
Mr. Arlen answered.
Semina heard his voice from outside as he spoke to workers in the workshop — loud, careless, saying everything in front of everyone. It had always been his habit.
But this time, it was about her.
Her face turned pale.
Her stomach dropped.
When he entered the room where she sat with her siblings, the air changed.
And then the words came.
The words he threw at her weren't advice. They were sharp, careless, and loud.
"All this money for nothing."
"Why can't you do one thing properly?"
"You're just wasting everything."
Each sentence struck like something physical. Her ears rang. Her chest tightened. Her throat went dry. She wanted to cry, to speak, to defend herself—
But she couldn't.
She just sat there, absorbing every word like she deserved it.
A small voice inside her whispered:
Maybe he's right.
That night, she lay on the bed between her sister and her mother.
She didn't sleep.
She didn't sob.
Tears just slipped silently into the pillow all night, her body too tired even to shake.
After that day, it became routine.
Every time Mr. Arlen saw her, there were more words.
"If you fail boards, I'll marry you off."
"At least then you won't be a burden."
Hearing that from her own father — at seventeen — did something inside her that could not be undone.
She didn't know how to respond. Didn't know how to argue. Didn't know how to fight.
She had no skills. No income. No special talent she could point to and say, I can survive.
Her confidence — already fragile — collapsed completely.
Semina stopped imagining futures.
She only thought about surviving the next day.
And slowly, without anyone noticing, the girl who once dreamed of other possibilities began to believe she deserved none at all.