Chapter 2 : The Wrong Morning

Zoooom!

Kaira slapped her palms on the bathwater, sending tiny waves bouncing against the tub. She giggled at the splash—

Then froze.

“Oh no no no… school!” Her eyes widened. “If I don’t go, Mommy will get super angry—haaah!”

She tried to stand too fast, slipped, and fell back with a loud thunk.

“Ouch! Bad tub! Very bad tub!” she scolded, pointing one accusing finger at the porcelain as if it had betrayed her.

She wrapped herself in the nearest towel and wrinkled her nose.

“Ewww… white towel. Where’s my cartoon one? I want the blue penguin one… Mommy will change this today. Daddy too.”

Then her head tilted.

She looked around the bathroom.

“…Wait. This isn’t my house?”

The tiles were different. The mirror bigger. The room outside—she peeked out—huge.

“Woah…” Her voice softened. “Did we become rich? Yes! Kaira likes this house!”

She waddled into the bedroom—messy, scattered clothes, scribbles on the wall.

Someone had drawn a crooked face in marker.

“That looks like me,” she whispered. Panic hit. “Oh NO. If Mommy sees this, she’ll punish me!” Pause. “…Actually, drawing is good. Hehe. Oops.”

She opened the cupboard expecting frilly frocks.

Black T-shirts. Baggy jeans. Sports bras.

“Ehhh? Whose clothes are these? Where is my pink frock? My shiny rainbow one?” Her lips trembled.

“But… this—” she lifted a black T-shirt, “—looks cool.”

She puffed her chest. “Kaira will wear black today. Badass color!”

Then began her wrestling match with the sports bra.

“Is this my mom’s?! Why so difficult?!”

After a one-minute battle, she somehow got it on.

Now uniform.

“Uniform… wait, where is my uniform??” She opened every drawer. No school frocks—only college notebooks.

“Kyaaaaahhh!” She flopped on the floor dramatically. “Mommyyyyy! Nothing is here! Teacher will shout!”

Her foot hit something. A phone.

“Oh! I call Mommy!”

Face ID unlocked instantly.

She squinted. “…Wow. Genius.”

She dialed her mom.

“Hello?” Tejasvi’s tired voice.

“Mommy! I can’t find my uniform! My bag! My books! Where is my school bag? Mommy teacher will—”

“Kaira,” Tejasvi cut sharply, “stop this nonsense. I’ll send the driver. Go to college. And behave.”

Call disconnected.

Kaira stared at the phone. Eyes wide. Slowly filling with tears.

“My mom doesn’t want me anymore…” Her lower lip trembled. “But… Kaira will go alone.”

She wore the oversized T-shirt, black jeans, pinned a napkin like a bib, locked the door carefully—Mommy said locking was important—and went downstairs.

The driver smiled kindly.

“College, ma’am?”

“This isn’t my school…” she whispered.

He chuckled. “You’re teasing again. You’re a grown student now.”

Blinking, she whispered, “Grown…? I’m big?”

A shy smile. “Kaira is smart girl. She is in college now!”

---

The Campus

She stepped out, humming.

“La la la la—”

Until she heard whispers.

“Isn’t that the boxer girl?”

“Yeah, the one who never punches.”

“Didn’t she… confess to her best friend? Hostel gossip says she’s lesbian.”

Her smile cracked.

Her steps shrank.

Her shoulders curled in.

Why were they looking?

Why were they whispering?

She wrapped her arms around herself. She looked tiny. Like she wanted to vanish.

She bumped into Nitya—her relief.

“Kaira?” Nitya frowned. “Why are you walking like that? And this outfit?”

The child alter peeked from behind her hair. “…I got scared… can I walk with you?” she whispered.

Nitya sighed. “Not today. I told you we need distance.”

Her little chest sank. Eyes blurred.

“I… I just wanted to be near you…”

“Kaira, stop. Don’t follow me today.”

Kaira nodded slowly. Turned away. Walked quietly, shrinking into herself.

---

The Washroom

She wandered into an empty corridor, heart racing.

Then she felt something warm trickle down her leg.

Her breath broke.

Blood.

Her hands shook.

Her vision trembled.

“Mommy… I’m hurt…” she whispered. “It’s blood… I’m bleeding… I’m gonna die—”

Her knees hit the floor.

Sharp cramps twisted inside her.

Too much pain for a seven-year-old mind trapped in a twenty-year-old body.

She curled up, sobbing. “I… I want Mommy… someone help me…”

Then—

A quiet shift.

A calmer presence.

Older.

Darker.

“Stop. Control. Move.”

Her crying slowed.

Her fingers stilled.

Her posture straightened.

Something inside her—someone protective—rose to the surface.

Not scared.

Not childish.

Not weak.

A hidden alter.

A protector.

The bleeding.

The fear.

The pain.

Handled. Controlled.

For the first time, she wasn’t just the frightened child.

She was… becoming someone else.

Someone who watched.

Who protected.

Who waited.

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