Chapter 3 : Laughter

I woke up early that morning.

Earlier than usual.

Not because I wanted to—

but because I didn’t want to see him.

I packed my bag quietly.

Every sound felt louder in the silence.

Before leaving, I looked toward the kitchen.

My mother was there.

She looked tired.

Our eyes met for a moment.

“I’m going,” I said softly.

She nodded.

“Study well,” she replied.

I nodded back… and left before my father could wake up.

The walk to school felt longer than usual.

Maybe because I was thinking too much.

Maybe because I wasn’t thinking at all.

When I reached the classroom, a few students were already there.

Something felt off.

They were looking at the board… and smiling.

I followed their gaze.

And then I saw it.

A drawing.

A small figure, standing next to a tall one.

Above it, someone had written—

“Before and After.”

Laughter broke out the moment they noticed me looking.

“Look, it’s him.”

“Perfect match.”

I didn’t say anything.

I walked to the board.

Picked up the duster.

And started erasing it.

Slowly.

Quietly.

But the top part was still there.

I stretched my hand.

Tried to reach it.

Just a little more.

But I couldn’t.

The classroom went silent for a second.

Then—

laughter.

Louder this time.

“Bro, he can’t even reach it.”

“Someone get him a stool.”

“Or grow taller first.”

I stopped.

My hand slowly dropped.

For a moment, I just stood there.

Feeling every pair of eyes on me.

Every laugh.

Every word.

My face burned with embarrassment.

I picked up my bag… and walked out.

No one stopped me.

No one cared.

I went straight to the washroom.

Locked the door.

And stood there.

Alone.

For a few seconds, I held it in.

Tried to stay quiet.

Tried to stay strong.

But I couldn’t.

Tears started falling.

Fast.

Uncontrollable.

I covered my mouth so no one would hear.

But the sound still escaped.

Broken. Weak.

Just like me.

I slid down against the wall.

Sitting on the cold floor.

Crying in a place where no one could see me.

Because that’s where I belonged.

Hidden.

And in that moment, one thought kept repeating in my mind—

Why am I like this?

Did I do something wrong?

The question came suddenly.

Why…?

Why me?

Why, God?

I looked up at the ceiling, my vision blurred with tears.

There was no answer.

There never was.

After a while, I heard footsteps outside.

Then a voice—

“Alex… teacher is calling you.”

I quickly wiped my face.

Stood up.

My legs felt weak.

I went to the sink, splashed water on my face again and again.

As if that could wash everything away.

But it didn’t.

Nothing changed.

I took a deep breath… and walked back to class.

The moment I entered, everything felt different.

Silent.

Too silent.

Everyone was in their seats.

Looking normal.

Like nothing had happened.

I quietly went to my place and sat down.

The teacher continued teaching.

Her voice filled the room.

But I couldn’t focus.

Not after everything.

I kept my head down.

Hoping the day would just end.

Suddenly—

THUD.

A sharp hit landed on my back.

The sound echoed across the classroom.

I flinched.

Before I could even react—

“Ma’am, Alex did it!”

Voices rose instantly.

“It was him!”

“He hit the desk!”

I turned around quickly.

“I didn’t—”

But the words stopped.

No one was listening.

The teacher’s expression changed.

“Stand up.”

I stood.

My heart started racing again.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said softly.

But it sounded weak.

Unconvincing.

Like even I didn’t believe it.

“Enough,” she said.

“Get out of the class.”

Silence.

Then a few quiet laughs from behind.

I looked around.

No one spoke for me.

No one said the truth.

I nodded slowly.

Picked up nothing.

And walked out.

Again.

As I stepped outside, the laughter followed me.

Faint.

But clear enough.

And in that moment, I understood something—

Even when I say the truth…

It doesn’t matter.

Because no one believes me.

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