FINALLY MINE

Laila`s POV I learned early how to be quiet. I was the last child in a home where peace depended on moods, especially my brother’s. My sisters knew how to disappear, and I learned from them. By the time I started primary school, I already knew how to stay small. On my first day of primary school, I stood at the classroom door clutching my books, my heart beating too fast. “Go on, find a seat,” the teacher said. Most desks were already taken. Then I saw an empty one. A boy sitting beside it looked up at me. He hesitated for a second, then pulled the chair out. “You can sit here,” he said softly. “Thank you,” I whispered, sliding into the seat. That was how it started. We didn’t talk much at first. When my pencil fell and rolled under his desk, he picked it up and placed it on my book. “Here,” he said. “Thanks.” Small words, but they mattered. Soon, sitting next to him became routine. During break time, he would turn to me and ask, “Did you bring food?” and I would nod, and we’d share in silence. The classroom stopped feeling scary. As years passed, we grew. One afternoon, I asked, “Are you coming to sit here tomorrow?” He shrugged. “Maybe.” Tomorrow came, and he didn’t. He started sitting with other boys. When I waved, he didn’t see me—or pretended not to. “Why are you alone?” one girl asked during lunch. “I just like it,” I lied. Sometimes our eyes met in the corridor. “Hey,” I said once. “Hey,” he replied, already walking away. That single word hurt more than silence. By the time adolescence arrived, he had stopped talking to me altogether. I stopped expecting him to. I learned how to eat alone and walk home alone. On the last day of primary school, the compound buzzed with noise and excitement. “Will you miss this place?” someone asked him nearby. “Not really,” he laughed. I stood a few steps away, hoping—just once—he would look at me. He didn’t. We walked out of the school gate separately. No goodbye. No explanation. Just a memory of a boy who once said, “You can sit here,” and a girl who learned that even the safest places don’t always last.