Chapter 1
Once Upon a Time...
There was once a little girl named Sahra—a child with a heart as pure as morning light, kind and gentle beyond words. She was so soft-hearted that she wouldn’t even harm an ant. Always quiet, always shy, but honest to the core.
Days passed…
And that child slowly grew up. The world, with its sharp edges, taught her something she never wanted to learn: kindness alone is not always enough. She had to learn how to defend herself, how to stand up for what was hers, how to scream when her silence was ignored.
And she learned.
But the cost was heavy…
Now, Sahra was a young woman. She no longer avoided eye contact. She no longer stayed silent. She had become strong—fierce, even. Bold. But she was also bitter. Easily hurt. Quick to anger. Her face often frowned, her voice often raised. The sweetness of her childhood had hardened into layers of frustration, wrapped around a wounded heart. A heart that had once been open and soft, now armored by the unfairness and loneliness she had endured.
One day, she sat in a train, a suitcase by her side, heading toward an unknown destination. She stared out of the window, restless and impatient, hoping they would just arrive already. She didn’t know exactly where she was going. She just wanted to leave.
Suddenly, a middle-aged woman with black hair streaked with gray and a gray shawl took the seat across from her. The woman studied Sahra for a moment, then offered a gentle smile.
“My dear,” she said softly, “why are you in such a hurry? Life isn’t just about getting to the destination... Sometimes, you have to enjoy the journey.
Have you ever looked behind you? Have you stopped to see where you’ve come from? What you’ve done? Whether you’ve made a difference?”
Sahra was startled. Her lips pressed into a tight line. The woman went on:
“Sometimes we run so fast, we forget why we started running in the first place…”
A heavy silence fell between them.
Sahra closed her eyes.
In that stillness, her life flashed before her—like a reel of film playing in the dark. She saw a kind, innocent little girl... who had now become a hardened, angry young woman. Her chest tightened. A tear slipped down her cheek.
She whispered, barely audible,
“Ma’am… I’ve changed so much. I buried that kind little Sahra long ago. Now I’m the one left… someone who snaps easily, yells too much, and pushes people away. I’ve become... contaminated. I’m not pure anymore.”
The woman smiled again. She gently took Sahra’s hand and said with warmth in her eyes:
“No, sweetheart… you’re still pure. People only become truly lost when they stop realizing what they’ve become. But you—you know. That means you’re still alive inside. That little girl you once were, she’s still there. She’s just waiting for you to find her again.”
“Goodness,” she added, “isn’t about being perfect. It’s about seeing your mistakes, owning them, learning from them—and choosing not to repeat them.”
Sahra stood up. She picked up her suitcase. Her voice was steady, her eyes clear.
“Thank you… for opening my eyes. I just realized this path I’m on—it’s not mine. Not really. I have so much left to do. So many things I need to fix.”
With a bittersweet smile—but hope burning quietly behind it—she stepped off the train.
The train rolled away…
But the girl who got off was no longer the same one who had gotten on.
With eyes wide open and a heart beginning to heal, she walked forward—toward a world where she would, at last, begin to find herself again.
