People often ask me what silence feels like.

I wish I could tell them it’s peaceful. That it’s calm and comforting, like the world pausing just for me. But silence isn’t empty. It’s full… of thoughts I never say, words I’ll never hear, and feelings louder than anything sound could ever carry.

Growing up with silence taught me to listen in different ways. To read lips, to watch eyes, to feel vibrations of laughter through fingertips pressed on tables. People think hearing is about sound, but to me, it has always been about connection. And connection is something I’ve always struggled to find.

I used to believe that love had a voice—that I would recognize it if only I could hear it. Looking back now, I realize I was wrong. The loudest feeling I’ve ever known came without a single word.

But that part of my story hasn’t begun yet.

Today is where it starts.

---

This morning, I put on my hearing aid with steady hands. Not because it helps me hear much—it doesn’t, not really—but because it reminds me to try. To keep standing in a world that moves too fast, speaks too loud, and forgets to slow down long enough to notice the quiet ones.

I tucked a blank notebook into my bag. It’s the one I use when I need to speak. My words don’t come through voice, but through pen strokes—neatly written sentences that carry everything my lips struggle to express.

Before leaving, I looked at myself in the mirror and mouthed three words.

You’ll be okay.

I didn’t hear them. But I felt them.

---

I took a deep breath and stepped out of my room.

Warm light spilled through the hallway window, painting the wooden floor in soft gold. The scent of toasted bread and brewing tea drifted through our small home. Morning here wasn’t noisy—it was gentle. Familiar. Safe.

I walked downstairs and found my family in the kitchen. My mother was slicing fruit, my father reading the morning newspaper, and my little brother scrolling on his phone.

They noticed me instantly.

My mother smiled and signed, “Good morning, sweetheart.”

I signed back, “Morning.” She placed a small plate in front of me—toast, strawberries, and a note scribbled beside it: “First day! You’ve got this.”

My father raised his mug and signed, “Proud of you.”

My brother gave a casual thumbs-up, then signed jokingly, “Don’t scare people with your serious face.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he laughed silently. Moments like these—the ones filled with quiet gestures and warm glances—are the ones I carry with me the longest.

After I had breakfast, my phone buzz.......

Lila: iam outside your house right now you ready?

I smiled a little and signed to my family, “I’m leaving now.”

My mother walked over and kissed my forehead. My father ruffled my hair, and my brother held up both hands in the shape of a heart.

I walked to the front door. Before I could reach for the handle, my mom opened it for me.

And there she was.

Lila stood outside on the doorstep, smiling the moment our eyes met. Without hesitation, she signed with playful excitement,

“You look pretty! Ready for your first day?”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and signed back,

“Not sure about ready… but I’m here.”

Lila grinned and added, “Good enough. Let’s go before you overthink it.”

My mom laughed silently at that one and signed to both of us, “Take care. And enjoy today.”

I hugged her one last time, then stepped outside.

The morning air was cool, and Lila walked beside me, hands moving animatedly as she signed updates about the upcoming classes, gossip, and warnings about strict professors. I couldn’t hear her laughter, but I felt its rhythm in the way her hands moved quickly and her eyes sparkled.

---

When we reached the campus building, I paused at the entrance, inhaling slowly.

New faces. New voices. New everything.

Lila nudged me gently.

“You’ll be fine.”

I nodded again, this time not just for her—but for myself.

---

I entered the lecture hall and walked to the front. The room buzzed with energy, conversations overlapping in sounds I couldn’t make out. I placed my bag down and took my seat next to Lila.

Around me, students chatted, laughed, and introduced themselves.

I couldn’t hear their words.

But I felt the moment.

And somehow, I knew… something was about to change.

                                                                         To be continued.............

The morning classes passed in a gentle blur.

My literature teacher always spoke with exaggerated expressions—eyebrows rising, hands sweeping, her lips shaping every word with theatrical passion. I couldn’t hear a thing, but watching her was like watching a play. Sometimes I wondered if the hearing students ever noticed how expressive she truly was… or if that was something only people like me paid attention to.

When my eyes drifted toward the window, the campus stretched peacefully beneath the winter sun. Bare trees lined the pathways, their branches webbed like delicate fingers against the pale sky. Students hurried between buildings, their breath forming tiny clouds that floated upward and vanished. From up here, everything looked small and gentle—like a scene pressed inside a snow globe.

I wondered, for the hundredth time,

Did I make the right decision coming to college?

What if I fall behind?

What if I can’t make friends?

What if the world is louder than I can handle… even in silence? Many thoughts came into my head but these thoughts passed as the day slowly did, each hour melting into the next until the final class ended.

The room grew noisy with movement. Students packed their bags, chatting as they slung coats over shoulders. I stayed seated for a moment, watching their lips form shapes I couldn’t piece together. Their laughter was all in their eyes, bright and effortless.

---

Lila tapped my shoulder gently.

“I have a group project. Will you wait for me?”

Her hands moved quickly, a small crease between her brows.

I signed back, “It’s okay. I’ll go home.”

She frowned. “Are you sure? It’ll be quick.”

I smiled to reassure her. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

Lila hesitated, then grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly.

She mouthed clearly, Text me when you get home.

I nodded with a soft smile, reading her lips easily.

Then she left, glancing back at least twice—because that’s just how she was.

Once she disappeared around the corner, I gathered my things slowly.

"Its really cold today maybe it'll snow, but if that happens i don't wanna get up the next morning.Sigh.......... "

---

I wrapped my muffler around my neck, tucked my notebook into my bag, and stepped out of the classroom.

The hallway emptied quickly. Students left in pairs or clusters, leaning into each other for warmth, voices rising and falling in conversations I couldn’t hear. I walked quietly, feeling like a single dot in a painting full of busy brushstrokes.

When I reached the campus exit, someone pushed open the door from the outside. The cold wind rushed in instantly, brushing my cheeks like icy fingertips. I shivered, clutching my scarf.

Still, I stepped out.

My breath clouded the air in soft bursts, disappearing into the pale winter sky. I puffed out another one, just to see it swirl away—it felt silly and childlike, but… comforting.

As I walked, a chill wind swept past me, cold enough to make my cheeks sting. I let out a small whimper, hugging the muffler closer. My cheeks must have been turning pink by now.

To distract myself, I thought about home.

Warm lights.

Hot tea.

Maybe helping Mom cook dinner if she wasn’t already too tired.

But then I suddenly remembered—

I had to buy something.

With a small sigh, I took a detour toward the nearby supermarket.

The moment I walked in, a wave of people greeted me—well, not sound. Just movement. The whole place buzzed with life. Shoppers weaving through aisles. Kids tugging sleeves. Friends laughing together. Cashiers calling out to customers.

But from my world, all of it looked like a silent play.

A bustling crowd wrapped in a bubble of silence..

---

I watched a group of students giggling near the snacks aisle, their shoulders bumping, their mouths bright with laughter. A man spoke animatedly on a phone, waving his free hand in the air. A couple whispered to each other, leaning close.

I wondered…

What does laughter sound like?

Isn't it strange, that how something so ordinary to others feels like a distant dream to me.?

"Sometimes the world dances to a rhythm I can’t hear…

yet somehow, I still feel its echo.”

I held a basket to my chest and thought:

"How can something be so close… and still unreachable?”

To be continued...........