Chapter 1
Mira was born on a rainy evening in a small town where storms were more frequent than smiles. Her mother, Saeeda, was a quiet woman who had forgotten how to laugh, and her father, Rashid, was a man who found his peace only at the bottom of a bottle. Their house was full of noise, but not the kind that comes from joy — it was the sound of shouting, glass breaking, and a little girl crying softly under a blanket.
Mira learned early that love could hurt. She watched her mother shrink in fear every time her father entered the room, his footsteps a warning, his voice a weapon. Sometimes, he would shout for no reason, and sometimes, for reasons too small to matter. When he left for work, the house went silent — the kind of silence that feels heavy, not peaceful.
At school, Mira was shy. She rarely spoke, always afraid of saying something wrong. Her teachers often praised her neat handwriting and quiet behavior, but no one noticed the fear in her eyes when someone raised their voice.
⸻
