the way I see the world

Shattered Reflections

Nyla sat in the school cafeteria, her tray of untouched kimbap pushed to the side, her eyes tracing the lines of her notebook. Two weeks in Seoul, and the international school’s chaos was starting to feel familiar, though no less overwhelming. She overheard a group of girls at a nearby table, their voices low but sharp. “Young-mi, Myung, Chan-woo, and Anvi—they’re basically royalty here,” one said. “Rich, popular, untouchable.” Nyla glanced up, catching sight of Young-mi laughing with Myung across the room, Chan-woo tossing a grape in the air, and Anvi, the only Indian girl in their group, scrolling on her phone with an effortless grace. The words sank in—popular, rich, untouchable. They were a world apart from her, yet Young-mi had taken her under her wing, and Myung’s smile lingered in her mind like a melody she couldn’t shake.

Young-mi spotted Nyla and waved her over. “Aera, come sit with us!” she called, her voice bright. Nyla hesitated but joined them, sliding into a seat beside Young-mi. The group was all warmth—Chan-woo’s teasing, Anvi’s sly grin, Myung’s quiet nods—but Nyla felt like an outsider looking in. As lunch ended, Young-mi leaned in. “There’s a party at my place tomorrow night. You have to come. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Nyla’s stomach twisted. A party? Crowds, noise, and eyes on her—the thought made her chest tighten. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice soft. “I’m not really a party person.”

Young-mi’s eyes sparkled with determination. “Come on, Aera. It’s just us and some friends. You’re new here—you need to live a little. Please?” Her smile was infectious, and despite herself, Nyla nodded, the word “okay” slipping out before she could stop it.

As they left the cafeteria, Anvi fell into step beside Nyla, her dark eyes glinting. She leaned close, her voice a whisper. “You’re cute, Aera. Want to be my date to the party? Think about it.” Nyla froze, her cheeks burning, unsure how to respond. Anvi’s grin widened before she sauntered off, leaving Nyla’s thoughts in a tangle.

In her next class, a girl named Soo-jin, who sat two rows ahead, approached Nyla’s desk. Her eyes were wide with worry, her voice barely above a whisper. “Be careful with them, okay?” she said, glancing toward the door where Young-mi had just left. Nyla frowned, confused, but before she could ask what Soo-jin meant, the girl hurried back to her seat. The warning lingered, a shadow Nyla brushed aside—she had enough to worry about without decoding cryptic glances.

At home, Nyla found Aunt Marisol in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner. “I got invited to a party tomorrow,” Nyla said, her voice hesitant. Aunt Marisol’s face lit up, a rare smile breaking through her usual worry. “That’s wonderful, Nyla! I’m so glad you’re trying new things. I’ll drive you. When is it?”

“Tomorrow night,” Nyla said, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweater. “But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Then we’re going shopping today,” Aunt Marisol declared, grabbing her keys. “Let’s find you a dress.”

They drove to a bustling mall in Gangnam, its lights dazzling against the evening sky. In a small boutique, Nyla tried on a deep blue dress, its soft fabric hugging her frame, the hem swirling just above her knees. She caught her reflection in the mirror—pale skin, dark eyes, a girl who looked like Aera, not Nyla. “You look beautiful,” Aunt Marisol said, her voice thick with pride. Nyla managed a small smile, though her nerves churned.

The next evening, Nyla stood in the dress, her hair loose around her shoulders. She felt like an imposter, but the mirror told a different story—she looked pretty, almost confident. Aunt Marisol dropped her off at Young-mi’s sprawling house, its glass windows glowing with party lights. “Have fun,” her aunt said, squeezing her hand. “Call me if you need anything.”

Nyla stepped inside, and the world shifted. The house was packed—students laughing, music pulsing, fairy lights strung across the ceiling. Eyes turned to her, whispers rippling through the crowd. Her dress, her newness, her quiet demeanor—they made her a curiosity, and she felt exposed, like a painting under harsh light. She clutched her bag, her heart racing.

“Aera!” Young-mi’s voice cut through the noise. She bounded over, her red dress vibrant against the crowd. “You really, really came! I thought you’d bail.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling.

“Me too,” Nyla admitted, her voice barely audible over the music. Young-mi handed her a glass of pink liquid, the ice clinking softly. “Try this—it’s good.”

Nyla hesitated. “Is it… alcohol?”

Young-mi laughed, a bright, carefree sound. “No way, it’s just juice. Pomegranate or something. Relax, Aera.” Nyla took the glass, the cold soothing her nerves, and sipped. It was sweet, tangy, harmless. She relaxed slightly, letting Young-mi pull her into the crowd.

Anvi appeared, her gold dress catching the light. “Dance with me,” she said, her voice playful but firm. Nyla’s stomach flipped, Anvi’s earlier words—Want to be my date?—echoing in her mind. Reluctantly, she let Anvi lead her to the dance floor, their movements awkward at first. The music was loud, the lights dizzying, and Nyla felt a strange warmth spreading through her, her head growing light. She frowned—juice shouldn’t feel like this. Her vision blurred, the room tilting.

“I need… the bathroom,” she mumbled, pulling away from Anvi. She stumbled through the crowd, her legs unsteady, and locked herself in a bathroom upstairs. Her reflection in the mirror was pale, her eyes wide with panic. She fumbled for her phone and called Aunt Marisol. “Please come pick me up,” she said, her voice shaking.

“What’s wrong?” Aunt Marisol’s voice was sharp with worry.

“Please, just come,” Nyla whispered, her head spinning. She hung up, splashing water on her face, but the dizziness only worsened.

She staggered out of the bathroom, her legs betraying her. As she reached the staircase, her foot caught, and she tripped, tumbling down the steps. The crowd gasped, a few laughs breaking through. Nyla tried to stand, her dress clinging wetly to her skin, and stumbled into a table, knocking over a chocolate fountain. The sticky liquid splattered her dress, her arms, her face. Humiliation burned as laughter erupted. She pushed forward, desperate to escape, but her vision swam, and she fell—straight into the backyard pool.

The cold water shocked her, pulling her under. Laughter and camera flashes pierced the surface as she flailed, her dress heavy, her mind foggy. She saw Myung’s face in the crowd, not laughing, just watching, his eyes unreadable. I’m drowning, she thought, her chest tight, her world fading to black.

Nyla woke in a hospital bed, the sterile smell sharp in her nose. Aunt Marisol sat beside her, tears streaking her face. “Nyla, did you drink?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“No,” Nyla croaked, her throat dry. “Can you please give me my book?”

Aunt Marisol’s eyes narrowed. “Then what happened? Look at me and tell me what happened.”

Tears spilled down Nyla’s face. “Please, just believe me. I didn’t drink alcohol.”

“Then what did you drink?” Aunt Marisol pressed.

“Juice,” Nyla said, her voice breaking. “It was just juice.” But doubt gnawed at her—Soo-jin’s warning, the dizziness, the fall. Had it been just juice? She didn’t know, and the uncertainty cut deeper than the laughter at the party.

Aunt Marisol handed her the diary, her expression softening but still troubled. Nyla clutched it, her fingers trembling. She opened to a blank page, the hospital’s hum fading as she wrote, her words raw and jagged:

Juice or lies, I fell, I broke,

A laugh, a flash, a cruel joke.

Their eyes, their laughs, they cut, they sting,

I’m sinking still, no solid thing.

What was it, that drink, that haze?

A trap, a trick, in neon’s blaze?

I’m Aera, Nyla, lost, undone,

A heart that drowns beneath the sun.

She closed the diary, her tears blurring the ink. The party, the fall, Myung’s stare—it all swirled in her mind, a new wound atop her grief. She didn’t know who to trust, not even herself, but the weight of the locket around her neck, found among her mother’s things, grounded her. Tomorrow, she’d face the school, the whispers, the truth. For now, she let the hospital’s quiet hold her, a fragile pause in her storm.