The girl who wanted more
Chapter 1 — The Girl Who Wanted More
Some people were born knowing exactly what they wanted.
Aira Rahman wasn't one of them.
She only knew one thing:
She didn't want an ordinary life.
At sixteen, Aira was the kind of girl people usually misunderstood.
She wasn't extremely quiet, but she wasn't the loudest person in the room either.
She could talk for an hour about something she loved and then spend the next hour sitting silently by a window, watching people pass by.
She noticed little things.
A friend's expression changing.
A teacher suddenly becoming quiet.
A missing pen on someone's desk.
A person pretending to smile when they clearly weren't okay.
Aira noticed everything.
Except, sometimes, what was happening to herself.
Her alarm rang at 6:15 every morning.
Aira opened one eye.
She looked at the alarm.
Then closed her eye again.
“Five more minutes.”
Five minutes later, her mother's voice came from outside the room.
“Aira! Wake up!”
Aira pulled the blanket over her head.
“I'm awake!”
“You said that ten minutes ago.”
“I was awake emotionally.”
There was silence outside.
Then her mother replied,
“Get up before I come inside.”
Aira immediately sat up.
That threat had never failed.
She looked at the clock.
6:32.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh no.”
She jumped out of bed.
Her morning became the usual disaster.
She couldn't find her other sock.
Her school notebook had mysteriously disappeared.
Her hair refused to cooperate.
And somehow, despite having an entire morning to get ready, she was still running around her room at 7:05.
When Aira finally reached the kitchen, her mother looked at her.
“You're late again.”
“I know.”
“You said yesterday you would wake up early.”
“I know.”
“And?”
Aira picked up a piece of toast.
“And I failed.”
Her mother tried not to smile.
“Eat properly.”
Aira grabbed her bag.
“I'm going.”
“Wait.”
Her mother reached out and fixed the collar of Aira's uniform.
For a second, Aira stood still.
It was such a small thing.
Her mother did it almost every morning.
But Aira secretly loved it.
She just never said so.
“Now go,” her mother said.
Aira smiled.
“Bye, Amma.”
“Come home straight after school.”
“I will.”
“And don't forget—”
“I know, Amma.”
Her mother laughed softly.
“Okay. Go.”
Aira stepped outside.
Their family wasn't rich.
They weren't struggling every day either.
They were simply ordinary people trying to build a comfortable life.
Her parents had worked hard for everything they had.
And that was exactly why Aira sometimes felt guilty about her dreams.
Her father believed in practical things.
Education.
A stable career.
Savings.
Security.
He rarely said no to Aira without a reason.
But whenever she talked about becoming an entrepreneur or creating something of her own, he would give her the same gentle answer.
“You can dream big, Aira. But first, make sure you can stand on your own feet.”
She knew he meant well.
Still, sometimes she wished he would simply say:
“I believe you can do it.”
Her mother was different.
She worried more.
Whenever Aira mentioned doing something unusual, her mother's first question was always:
“Is it safe?”
Then:
“Will it affect your studies?”
Then:
“What will happen if it doesn't work?”
Aira knew those questions came from love.
But sometimes love could feel like a locked door.
Not because her parents wanted to keep her trapped.
Because they were afraid she would get hurt outside.
And Aira understood that.
More than she admitted.
She remembered one night when she was younger.
She had come home excited after watching a young entrepreneur talk about starting a company.
“Amma,” she'd said, “I want to build something like that one day.”
Her mother had smiled while folding clothes.
“You can.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Aira's eyes had lit up.
Then her mother had added,
“But don't forget that success takes time.”
Aira had nodded.
She remembered that conversation even now.
Because it was the first time someone had told her that her dream wasn't stupid.
Her parents didn't always understand her.
But they loved her.
And Aira loved them too.
She just sometimes wished love didn't come with so many warnings.
---
At school, Aira became herself again.
Her best friend, Maya Iyer, was almost the complete opposite of her.
Confident.
Straightforward.
Extremely talkative.
And completely incapable of keeping a secret from Aira for more than twenty-four hours.
“Did you finish the assignment?” Maya whispered.
Aira looked at her.
“Yes.”
Maya smiled.
“Can I see it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you said you were going to do yours yesterday.”
“I was going to.”
“You didn't.”
“I was emotionally preparing.”
Aira stared at her.
Maya smiled innocently.
“Please?”
Aira sighed and pushed her notebook across the desk.
“Five minutes.”
Maya hugged the notebook.
“You're my favourite person.”
“You said that yesterday too.”
“And I meant it yesterday.”
Aira laughed.
These small moments were what she loved most.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing extraordinary.
Just laughing with Maya between classes.
Sharing snacks.
Complaining about homework.
Making plans they probably wouldn't follow.
For a while, Aira was perfectly happy living that ordinary life.
But whenever she was alone, another thought always returned.
I want more.
She didn't know exactly what “more” meant.
Sometimes she imagined becoming an entrepreneur.
Sometimes a writer.
Sometimes she imagined creating something so meaningful that people across the world would know about it.
She wanted to build something of her own.
Something that would make her parents proud.
Something that would make her younger self proud too.
But whenever she spoke about those dreams, people usually laughed.
“You're still young.”
“Focus on your studies.”
“Think about a safe career.”
Aira understood them.
Maybe they were right.
Maybe dreams really were easier to imagine than to achieve.
But secretly, she hated the idea of giving up before she had even tried.
That evening, Aira returned home from school.
Her father was already home.
He was sitting at the dining table, looking through some papers.
“How was school?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“Just fine?”
Aira smiled.
“Okay. Maya almost got caught copying my homework.”
Her father laughed.
“Almost?”
“I saved her.”
“You're too kind.”
“I know.”
He shook his head.
Then he noticed the notebook tucked beneath Aira's arm.
“What are you writing these days?”
Aira hesitated.
“Nothing.”
Her father raised an eyebrow.
“That means it's something.”
Aira smiled.
“Just ideas.”
“Business ideas?”
She looked at him.
“Maybe.”
He nodded.
“Keep writing them down.”
Aira wasn't expecting that.
Her father returned to his papers.
Then he added quietly,
“Someday, one of those ideas might actually work.”
Aira stood there for a moment.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He looked up.
“For what?”
“Nothing.”
She smiled and went upstairs.
That tiny sentence stayed with her.
One of those ideas might actually work.
Maybe that was all the encouragement she needed.
---
At 10:30 PM, the house became quiet.
Aira opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out her black notebook.
Nobody knew about it.
Not even Maya.
The notebook contained everything Aira was too embarrassed to say aloud.
Business ideas.
Story ideas.
Goals.
Plans.
Places she wanted to visit.
Things she wanted to learn.
And impossible dreams she wasn't ready to let go of.
She turned to the last page.
At the top, she had written:
MY LIFE — BEFORE I TURN 17
Underneath it was a list.
Start something of my own.
Become better at writing.
Do something I'm proud of.
Stop being afraid of failure.
Aira stared at the list.
Her birthday wasn't far away.
She wondered how much could really change in one year.
Probably not much.
She picked up her pen and wrote another sentence.
I have 365 days to become someone I'm proud of.
She smiled.
It sounded dramatic.
But she liked it.
Aira closed the notebook and reached for her phone.
11:47 PM.
She was about to put it down when the screen lit up.
Unknown Number
Aira frowned.
She opened the message.
There was only one sentence.
You have 365 days.
Her smile disappeared.
She stared at the screen.
Maybe it was spam.
Maybe someone was joking.
She typed:
Who is this?
No answer.
A second message appeared.
Not to become famous.
Aira's fingers stopped.
Another message.
To become the person you've been pretending you aren't.
Her heart began beating faster.
She looked at her notebook.
Nobody knew about it.
Nobody knew what she had written.
Nobody knew how badly she wanted to become someone different.
Nobody...
A third message appeared.
Tomorrow. 7:00 AM. School library.
Aira sat completely still.
She typed:
Why?
The message was seen.
No reply.
Then another notification appeared.
Come alone.
Aira's stomach tightened.
She looked toward her bedroom door.
The house was silent.
Her parents were downstairs.
The people who had spent sixteen years protecting her had no idea that something had just entered their daughter's life.
Then the screen lit up one last time.
And Aira?
She stared.
Don't tell Maya.
Aira's heart sank.
Because whoever had sent those messages didn't just know her name.
They knew her dreams.
They knew her best friend's name.
And somehow...
They knew exactly what Aira had written in the notebook.
