Morning arrived gently, as if the world itself did not want to startle the day.
Lala woke before the sun fully claimed the sky. The room was quiet, washed in pale gold light slipping through sheer curtains. For a moment, she lay still, hand pressed against her chest, listening—not for fear, not for doubt—but for the steady calm she had learned to trust.
Today, she thought.
Not the kind of today that carries anxiety.
Not the kind that tightens the heart.
But the kind that opens it.
Today was not about becoming someone new.
It was about choosing—clearly, bravely, finally.
Lala’s Morning
Her mother knocked softly before entering, as if afraid to disturb something sacred. She carried a tray of tea, her movements careful, reverent.
“You didn’t sleep much,” her mother said gently.
Lal
