Her First Love

The stairwell of the house remains quite dark even during the day, yet to Tahia, it is her favorite sanctuary. When she can no longer endure the clamor of the outside world, she comes here in silence to sit on the final step by the window. To her, the window bars are like the small limitations of her life, beyond which lies the vast sky and an array of towering buildings.

She was sitting there today as well. The clock signaled the onset of evening, and a massive moon was rising on the other side of the window. However, Tahia’s mind was anchored to her phone screen. In the blue light of the display, her face—framed by a pink hijab—resembled a portrait of deep melancholy. A line from a song played in her ears: "Jab koi pyar se bulayega, tumko ek shaks yaad ayega" (When someone calls you with love, you will remember a certain person).

She let out a heavy sigh. In the solitude of these stairs, she seemed to hear the echoes of days gone by. There was once a restless, vibrant Tahia; when she laughed, a pure glow like the soft morning sun would spread, brightening everything around her in an instant. Today, she is merely a lonely girl scavenging through memories in the darkness of a stairwell.

She knows that the moon beyond the window spreads its moonlight equally for everyone, but the meager light that filters through this small window is all she has to hold onto.

The Hidden Storm

Tahia has built an invisible wall around herself. When she sits alone in this dark corner, staring out the window and yearning for someone, no one can perceive the storm raging inside her. She has learned to smile again; she has learned to talk to everyone just as she used to. But no one knows the silent outcry hidden deep within that smile.

She no longer shares her grief with anyone. She has realized that some pains are deeply personal—explaining them only increases the worry of others without providing a solution. Her sorrow is not just a burden to her, but to her family as well. Her parents cannot even imagine that their beloved, lively girl sits here before leaving for her tuitions. They don't know that their darling daughter has made a profound loneliness her closest friend.

It was time to go. She couldn't afford to mourn lost people for much longer. She stood up, took her bag in hand, and began descending the stairs.

The road was very familiar. In her childhood, she used to walk this path holding her father’s hand. Familiar shops and familiar faces lined the street. In the glow of the shop lights, her long shadow walked beside her, solitary. She felt a sudden urge to stand in the middle of the road and scream, to cry out loud. But she didn’t. She had become far too proficient at masking her depression.

Walking on, she reached a familiar wooden door. Whenever she knocked on this door, two pairs of eager eyes welcomed her: Raha and Rahiyan, her students. They are two young siblings, and they have an even younger brother named Rafi.

Before the sound of the knock faded, the sound of bustling feet echoed from within. As the door opened, a wave of innocent laughter washed over her. It was Raha and Rahiyan. Their faces glowed with a strange excitement, as if they had been waiting for "Tahia Miss" for a long time.

They both greeted her. Raha pulled at Tahia’s hijab with her tiny hand and said, "Miss, remember we were supposed to color together today!"

Tahia smiled. After a long time, a flicker of genuine laughter appeared at the corners of her lips. The gloomy road outside, the dark window of the stairs, and the lump of pain in her heart—all seemed to pale for a moment before these two pairs of bright eyes. They sat down to study, but at the end of the day, it was they who taught Tahia how to smile again. She realized that while she taught them, she was actually forgetting her own loneliness. The vast emptiness that no one else could see was being healed by the selfless love of Raha and Rahiyan. In these small moments, she was no longer just their "teacher," but a sheltered young girl herself.

At the study table, the usual mischief began. Rahiyan hid behind his math book, peeking at Tahia and giggling, while Raha was busy drawing flowers in the corner of her notebook. Tahia pretended to be stern and asked, "Rahiyan, did you review yesterday’s lesson at home? I’m going to test you today." Rahiyan grinned and whispered, "Yes Miss, I did... but can I just look at it one more time?"

In the midst of this banter, there was a soft knock on the door. Raha and Rahiyan’s mother entered the room carrying a tray. On it was a neatly arranged warm snack, and right in the center, Tahia’s favorite milk tea.

Tahia took her first sip. To her, the taste of this tea wasn't just a flavor; it was a form of consolation. After the cold loneliness of the stairwell, this warm cup reminded her that care and affection still exist in the world.

After finishing the lesson, she returned home. She spoke a few words to everyone with a smile. Her family members looked on in surprise, seeing their quiet, withdrawn girl opening up a bag of stories on her own. Though the subtle melancholy within her hadn't died, she wanted today to pass normally.

After spending some time with her family, she returned to her room. She took off her hijab and sat at her study table. Thick books and notebooks lay open before her. No matter how complex the outside world was, she found a different kind of freedom among these books. While studying, her gaze would occasionally drift toward the window—the window of solitude where she used to look at the sky and remember someone. But now, she gripped her pen firmly. She had to move forward. Her sadness must no longer be her weakness, but her secret strength.

Closing the last page of her book, Tahia let out a sigh. She had dinner with everyone today, though she didn't speak much. After washing up, she lay down on her bed. As soon as she turned off the light, the darkness outside wrapped around her like a blanket.

Her eyes were closed, but sleep felt like a distant traveler tonight. As soon as her head hit the pillow, those defiant memories began to crowd in—the ones she had kept hidden all day behind her textbooks, her parents, her sisters, and the laughter of all her beloved.

She remembered the time when she wasn't as alone as she is today. The moments spent with that person, whose smile once colored every morning of Tahia’s life. Why does that familiar voice now only return as old phone messages or as a heavy sigh in the silence of the night?