Episode 2: The Silence That Stays

Night comes quietly.🌌

The house finally slows down—the clatter of utensils fades, the television turns off, and footsteps disappear into separate rooms. But for Ashika, silence is never peaceful.

It’s loud.

Too loud.

She lies on her bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day like a loop she can’t switch off.

Every “yes.”

Every moment she swallowed her words.

Every time she almost said something… and didn’t.

Her chest feels heavy, like she’s carrying the entire day inside her.

School wasn’t different today—just more of the same. Expectations. Perfection. Smiles that didn’t reach her eyes.

And then home.

Her father’s voice.

Instructions. Reminders. Standards.

Her mother’s silence.

A presence that feels distant, even in the same room.

Ashika turns to her side, pulling the blanket closer.

Why does it feel so hard?

She isn’t doing anything wrong. She’s doing everything right.

Then why does it feel like something is missing?

Her mind drifts to a simple thought—

What if someone just understood?

Not judged.

Not corrected.

Not told what to do.

Just… understood.

She imagines sitting next to someone—anyone—without having to pretend.

Her grip tightens slightly.

"I just want someone to ask me if I’m okay… and actually wait for the answer."

Telling them how tired she feels.

How confusing it is to want something different.

How scary it is to even think about choosing herself.

But the image fades quickly.

Because there is no one.

Not her parents.

Not her friends.

And slowly, she’s stopped expecting it from anyone at all.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t wipe it away.

She’s used to this too.

Her gaze shifts to the notebook beside her pillow.

The only place where she doesn’t have to filter her thoughts.

She opens it, flipping through pages filled with unfinished sentences, messy handwriting, and quiet confessions.

She stops at a blank page.

For a long moment, she just looks at it.

Then she writes—

"I don’t want to be strong all the time."

Her hand trembles slightly.

Another line—

"I wish someone would notice."

The words sit there, raw and honest.

For the first time today, she feels like she’s telling the truth.

She closes the notebook gently, holding it close to her chest.

As if it’s the only thing that understands her.

The night grows deeper.

From the other room, she hears her parents’ faint voices—but none of it is meant for her.

Nothing ever is.

Ashika closes her eyes, but sleep doesn’t come easily.

Her thoughts keep circling—

Maybe tomorrow will be different.

Maybe someone will ask.

Maybe I won’t feel this alone.

But even she doesn’t fully believe it.

Still… she hopes.

Because hope is the only thing she hasn’t learned to give up yet.

And somewhere inside her, buried under all the expectations and silence—

there’s a small voice waiting.

Waiting for the day she finally listens to it.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***