Chapter 1: The Girl Behind the Smile
Chapter 1: The Girl Behind the Smile
People always asked me the same question.
"Why are you so quiet?"
I never knew how to answer.
Because how do you explain to someone that you became silent after nobody listened?
My name is Maya.
And if you saw me walking down the street, you would probably think I was just an ordinary girl.
A girl with a normal life.
A girl who had a family that loved her.
A girl who had friends who cared about her.
But appearances have always been the easiest lie to believe.
Every morning, I stood in front of the mirror and practiced my smile.
Not because I was happy.
Because I learned that people prefer a smiling girl over a broken one.
"Good morning, Maya," I whispered to my reflection.
It was strange how the person in the mirror looked like me… but felt like a stranger.
I had forgotten the last time I truly smiled.
Not the smile I gave when someone told a joke.
Not the smile I used when someone asked if I was okay.
I mean the kind of smile that reaches your eyes.
The kind that makes you forget your pain for a moment.
I couldn't remember it.
Maybe I lost it somewhere between all the times I was blamed for things I didn't do.
Between all the moments when I wanted to scream, but swallowed my words instead.
My mother always said:
"You're too sensitive, Maya. You make everything bigger than it is."
Maybe she was right.
Maybe I was too sensitive.
Or maybe I was just tired of pretending that words didn't hurt.
That night, I sat alone at the dinner table.
Everyone was talking.
Everyone was laughing.
And somehow, I felt like I wasn't there.
My father was telling a story. My mother was smiling. My younger brother was talking about his day.
A perfect family.
That's what everyone saw.
But nobody noticed the girl sitting between them, quietly disappearing.
"Maya, can you pass the salt?"
My father didn't even look at me.
"Sure."
Two words.
That was all I said the entire night.
After dinner, I went to my room and closed the door.
Finally.
Silence.
The only place where I didn't have to pretend.
I opened the small notebook hidden under my bed.
On the first page, I had written:
"Things I wanted to say but never could."
I stared at the empty pages.
Then, for the first time in weeks, tears fell.
Not loud tears.
Not the kind people notice.
Just quiet tears from a girl who had become an expert at suffering without making a sound.
I picked up my pen and wrote:
"Dear me…
I'm sorry nobody protected you."
And that was the first sentence of the last letter I would ever write.
