Chapter 1 - The Beginning of a Normal Life
Let me tell you something about my life.
It wasn’t extraordinary at first — just simple, messy, and full of laughter like any other child’s. I was that girl who smiled too easily, cried too softly, and dreamed too loudly. I used to run in the streets with my friends, hair flying, heart beating fast, never once wondering how that heartbeat worked. Because back then, life was simple — we just lived it, not thought about it.
I remember my childhood mornings — the sun shining on my face through the window, the smell of chai from the kitchen, and my mother’s voice calling my name again and again because I always took “five more minutes.” School was half about studies and half about secrets shared between friends, stolen tiffins, and inside jokes that made no sense but made us laugh till our stomachs hurt.
I used to believe that life would always stay that way — innocent and full of noise. I never imagined that silence could be louder than laughter one day.
People often say, “You never know when life changes.” But I think it doesn’t change in one moment — it whispers first. Small signs, small feelings, small things you ignore until one day they become everything.
Back then, at 13, I was just like everyone else. A little shy, a little talkative, always curious about the world. I loved watching sunsets from my terrace — that orange-pink sky that made everything feel possible. I had dreams — big ones — maybe becoming a teacher, or an artist, or maybe just someone who made her parents proud.
But life had written a twist in my story before I even knew it.
And soon, I would hear it — not from the world, but from the very heartbeat inside me.
At that age, I didn’t know how strong I was.
I didn’t know that strength sometimes comes quietly — through tears you hide, through smiles you force, through moments when you whisper to yourself, “It’s okay.”
This chapter of my life was filled with innocence — a world before I knew what hospitals smelled like, before I understood the word “hole” in a way no teenager should.
And yet, when I look back, I miss that girl — the one who didn’t know pain but was strong enough to face it when it came.
Because every story needs a before —
and this was mine.
