Behind A Smile
I was seven years old when I learned that a smile could hide more than words ever could.
I remember looking at my dad as he held a baby girl in his arms. They looked so happy together—so comfortable, so full of warmth. For a moment, they looked like a perfect little family.
And I hated how much I wanted to be the one in her place.
I tried to hide the jealousy behind a smile, pretending that everything was fine. But I never knew that smiling could be so difficult.
It was hard not to look at them.
“He-he… ha-ha…”
My dad was tickling her, and she laughed happily in his arms.
I stood there, watching them, trying my best to keep the sadness from showing on my face.
Then my “clingy” aunt walked over to me.
She looked at me with a smile that didn’t feel genuine and asked,
“What’s wrong, Nazie? Do you feel jealous?”
My heart sank.
Suddenly, everyone seemed to look at me. Their eyes were filled with curiosity, waiting for my answer.
Seven-year-old me didn’t know what to say.
“N-no…”
I forced a smile.
A heavy, painful smile.
I was only seven. I didn’t have the words to explain what I was feeling. I only knew that something inside me hurt, and I didn’t want anyone to see it.
I didn’t want them to know that I felt jealous.
I didn’t want them to know that I felt left out.
I didn’t want them to know that, deep down, I wished my dad was looking at me that way.
Years have passed since that day, but somehow, that little girl standing there is still a part of me.
I can still remember the way I felt.
The jealousy.
The sadness.
The loneliness.
And most of all, that smile I forced onto my face.
Some childhood memories fade as we grow older.
This one never did.
I remember that day as if it happened yesterday.
And I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.
