Things We Hide Behind Smiles
819 Words
The morning after Amara decided to try again, she woke up before her alarm.
For a few seconds, she forgot about the result.
Then she remembered.
The disappointment.
The tears.
The fear of failing again.
She reached for her phone and checked the time.
5:17 a.m.
She almost went back to sleep.
Instead, she sat up.
“Today,” she whispered, “I start again.”
She picked up her books and began studying.
For the next few weeks, Amara became quieter.
She stopped talking about her problems.
She stopped telling people when she was afraid.
Whenever someone asked how she was doing, she smiled.
“I'm good.”
At school, she laughed with her classmates.
At home, she helped her mother.
When someone made a joke, she laughed.
From the outside, Amara looked happier than ever.
But inside, she was exhausted.
She had discovered something about herself.
She was afraid of disappointing people again.
So she tried to become perfect.
She studied whenever she could.
She avoided unnecessary conversations.
She stopped asking for help because she didn't want anyone to think she was struggling.
Even when she didn't understand something, she would smile and say,
“I'll figure it out.”
One afternoon, her classmate, Daniel, noticed her sitting alone.
“You've been quiet lately.”
Amara looked up.
“Have I?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“I'm just tired.”
Daniel sat beside her.
“Are you sure?”
“I'm fine.”
He looked at her for a moment.
“You always say that.”
Amara laughed.
“Because it's true.”
But Daniel didn't laugh.
“You know you don't have to be fine all the time, right?”
Amara looked away.
She didn't know how to answer that.
Nobody had ever said those words to her before.
At home that evening, she found her mother sitting outside.
Her mother looked at her.
“You're losing weight.”
Amara laughed.
“Mum, I'm fine.”
Her mother shook her head.
“Again?”
“What?”
“I'm fine.”
Amara smiled.
“Because I am.”
Her mother sighed.
“Sometimes I wonder whether you believe that yourself.”
Amara said nothing.
She walked into her room and closed the door.
Then she stood in front of the mirror.
She looked tired.
Really tired.
She touched her face.
When had pretending become so natural?
She remembered how she used to be.
She used to talk about her dreams.
She used to laugh without thinking.
She used to tell people when something hurt.
Now she carried everything quietly.
She picked up her phone.
There were messages from classmates.
A missed call from her mother.
A message from Nadia.
Amara stared at Nadia's name.
They hadn't spoken properly in months.
She opened the message.
Hey. How have you been?
Amara stared at it.
Her first instinct was to type:
I'm fine.
She stopped.
For once, she didn't want to lie.
She typed:
I've been trying.
She looked at the words.
Then she deleted them.
She typed:
I'm okay.
Deleted.
Finally, she put the phone down without replying.
That night, Amara opened her old exercise book.
She read the things she had written years ago.
Dreams.
Promises.
Plans.
She smiled.
Then she turned to a blank page.
She wrote:
Things I don't tell people.
She stared at the page.
For several minutes, she couldn't write anything.
Then slowly, she began.
I'm scared of failing again.
She paused.
I'm scared that I'm not good enough.
Another pause.
I miss my old friendship.
She swallowed.
Sometimes I feel lonely even when people are around me.
The words kept coming.
Sometimes I want someone to ask me what's really wrong.
Her eyes filled with tears.
She wiped them quickly.
Then she wrote one final sentence.
Sometimes I say I'm fine because I don't know how to explain that I'm not.
She closed the book.
For the first time in weeks, she felt lighter.
Nothing had changed.
Her problems were still there.
Her failed subject was still waiting for her.
Her friendship with Nadia was still broken.
Her future was still uncertain.
But she had finally admitted the truth to herself.
And perhaps that was the beginning of something.
The next morning, Amara walked into school with a different expression.
She was still worried.
Still afraid.
Still carrying things nobody could see.
But she had learned something important.
A smile didn't always mean happiness.
Silence didn't always mean peace.
And the person who looked strongest in the room could sometimes be the person struggling the most.
From that day forward, Amara promised herself one thing.
She would stop being ashamed of her feelings.
She didn't have to tell everyone everything.
But she would no longer lie to herself.
Because sometimes the first person you have to be honest with...
is the person staring back at you in the mirror.
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