READING GUIDANCE
" This is a direct sentence in the present time."
" This is a direct sentence in the past time."
' This is a character's inner thought in the present time.'
' This is a character's inner thought in the past time.'
[ This is a direct sentence in sign language in the present time.]
[ This is a direct sentence in sign language in the past time.]
HAPPY READING!
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Her whole world is beautiful.
If someone asked her to describe it, she would say it is full of the aroma of freshly baked bread in the morning and the warm hum of a gentle voice. It is always filled with loving touches and soft smiles that make her feel like she is the most cherished and loved person in the world.
[Do you know, Arisha?] Her beautiful sister, with that warm smile, would stroke her hair gently and look into her eyes. [I always love you.] Words without sound, but she understood them perfectly—how deeply her sister loved her.
"I love you too, sister!" And every time her sister's smile brightened at hearing this, her heart would thump, her cheeks would blush, and she would feel as though she could not be happier.
' I am happy as long as I am with my sister.' She was her whole world, the place where she felt safe and comforted. Her sister was the one she would choose over anything—but why... why do people always think differently?
"She is so pitiful to live that life."
"Can someone adopt the young one? Maybe it would be better if someone else took care of her."
"Her sister is deaf and mute. What could she possibly do to care for the young one?"
"How unfortunate you are."
"So pitiful."
"If your sister weren't like that—"
She could not understand the adults who spoke like this. She could not understand their pitiful expressions or why they believed her sister would only bring her misfortune. Was it because her sister could not talk or hear? Was it because she was different? Is that the reason everyone thought that if her sister cared for her, she would have nothing but a miserable life?
"I just don't understand what you're doing," said Miranda, the landlord of her new house in the Malum Empire. She stood at the door, speaking with Rosan, who had just come to visit.
"What do you mean?"
"Why do you do all of this? It is not like you," she said. "You give people like them this house. You treat them so well, and I helped you until now because you are my friend. But many people complain about how you could let someone like her take care of a child."
"...If you just want to talk about this, I want you to leave," said Rosan calmly. "There is a child inside, and there is also Irisha—"
"She can't hear anyway! Just listen to me and send her to an orphanage or something—"
It was always like this eventually. Every single time, people said the same things over and over again, pitying her and blaming her sister, who had done nothing wrong. She never hurt anyone. She never stole food, kicked, hit, or got angry at anyone. The only thing she had done was give her love to the sister she longed for every single day.
It hurt her deeply every time someone spoke poorly of her sister. Tears would threaten to stream down her cheeks. She wanted to cry out, "GO AWAY!" at them, but how could she?
[Is it to your liking?] Her sister would always care for her like this, smiling gently.
'Sister, Ms. Miranda is speaking badly about you right now.' Even though she wanted to tell her so badly, she ended up smiling, "Yes! It is really delicious," as brightly as she could, ignoring the conversation she did not want to hear.
Her sister always said that in this world, there were no truly bad people. If someone did something wrong, there was always a reason behind it. She taught Arisha to be kind to people. Arisha could see that was true, but at the same time, it was not. Because even though she was very young, she had learned:
'Sister, there are always people who will do bad things, even when we are kind to them.'
She had seen it her whole life.
At first, she never understood, but recently she began to comprehend it. Just like back in the village, when her sister worked tirelessly, doing the only work she could because of the pity of others—even though her sister did it well, even though her sister excelled, people would always underestimate her. Every little mistake could bring blame upon her entirely. Some people saw her sister only as a burden and would blame her for everything that happened because of her disability.
"It is fortunate the injury is not that severe! But what if it happens again? We cannot guarantee that nothing will happen again if someone like her takes care of a child like this!" the old lady shouted. She was yelling back then at Pope Joseph's house—the same old lady from her village who had found Arisha unconscious after falling from the tree while wandering around.
"I will take her if you don't want to do something about it! She is still a child, and you let someone deaf and mute be her guardian?!"
She would cry so hard every time she heard that, running to her sister, who was confused and worried. Hugging her with trembling hands, she would cry out, "Sister! Please don't let her take me away from you!"
Her sister looked at her with a faint smile, bowing and begging desperately to the person yelling. Then she would silently communicate in her own language, the one no one understood—or even cared about. It was pitiful.
She felt so miserable, her heart aching so deeply that she cried harder.
'It was me who wandered around when you told me not to.'
'It was me who climbed that tree.'
'It was all my fault.'
But why were they angry with her sister only? Why did they make her sister appear as if her life were miserable, when it was their judgment that caused it? Why did they blame her sister and force her to bow for forgiveness for things she never did?
There was nothing wrong with her sister. So why could people not leave her alone?
"My mommy said you can come to my house to eat," said her friend from the academy.
"Ah, thank you, but my sister will cook my dinner for me," she said with a bright smile. "She will be home soon."
Her friend frowned. "Are you okay?"
"What do you mean?" she said, smiling faintly. "I am okay."
"Your sister is deaf and mute. What can she even do?" her friend asked. "My mommy said it's dangerous for you to live with someone like her. So you could—"
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'Sister... I am so sorry.'
She worried she might once again put her sister in a difficult situation. She might burden her sister because of her own actions. Her heart ached so deeply as the words and judgments continued. It hurt so much, as if she wanted to scream, to yell, to grab her friend's hair, but the pain in her heart would not go away.
"APOLOGIZE TO MY SISTER!" she shouted aloud. But everyone only looked at her with pity.
Then she turned to her sister, who ran over, worried. The tears she had been holding back finally burst. "I am so sorry," she whispered miserably. "I am so sorry..." She repeated the words as she cried in her sister's embrace, hugging her tightly so no one could take her away.
'Sister, are you bowing again to them?'
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'Sister, it was me who did wrong, so you don't have to ask for forgiveness.'
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'Sister, I am so sorry... my heart aches too much to watch you begging them.'
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She was so sorry. She was still not strong enough to show people how beautiful the world could be when she was in her sister's embrace. She was still not strong enough. So please...
'Forgive me.'
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