The Day We Started Over

CHAPTER 12 — SHADOWS REAWAKEN

The morning air felt unusually heavy. Aisha woke to the familiar hum of her small, cramped room, sunlight spilling unevenly across the floorboards. Despite the calm, a restless energy pulled at her chest. The day ahead wasn’t just school — it was another test of courage, another challenge to the fragile peace she and Kamal had fought to find under their mango tree.

She dressed quickly, pulling her hair back into a practical braid, slipping on her school shoes, and grabbing her bag. Breakfast was silent, save for the occasional scrape of utensils against the plate. Her father muttered something under his breath, but she ignored it, too focused on the thought of Kamal.

He had texted her early: Meet me at the tree before class. Important.

That “important” made her stomach twist. Something about the word carried tension. Not the playful kind, but heavy, urgent.

⸻

By the time she arrived at school, the yard was bustling with students, laughing, shouting, and running between classes. She scanned the crowd, spotting Kamal almost immediately under the shade of the mango tree. He was tense, shoulders tight, eyes darting toward the school gates as if expecting someone.

“Aisha,” he called softly, waving her over.

She approached cautiously, noting the shadows beneath his eyes, the grip on his sketchbook that seemed almost desperate. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, kneeling beside him.

He hesitated, then opened the sketchbook. The page inside made her stomach knot. It was a new drawing — jagged lines forming a cage, a boy trapped inside, eyes wide with panic. Above him, faceless figures loomed, their presence oppressive.

“They’re back,” Kamal whispered, barely audible.

Aisha’s heart skipped. “Who?”

“The boys… the ones from yesterday. I… I saw them waiting by the gate. They weren’t alone. There’s… someone new. Stronger, meaner.”

Her chest tightened. “We’ll handle it,” she said, trying to inject confidence into her voice even as adrenaline surged through her veins. “Together.”

Kamal nodded slowly, but she could see the tension radiating off him like heat from fire.

⸻

Class was a blur. Aisha kept glancing at Kamal, who sat stiffly, head down, pencil occasionally moving in small, anxious strokes. Every whisper in the classroom, every sideways glance made him flinch. She reached over, placing a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Breathe,” she whispered. “You’re not alone.”

He took a shaky breath, letting her presence steady him, just as she had done beneath the mango tree countless times.

⸻

After school, the tension escalated. As they left the classroom, a group of unfamiliar boys approached them near the back gate. Their faces were harder, sharper, older than the usual bullies.

“So you’re the famous quiet girl,” one sneered, voice low and dangerous. “And your boyfriend here thinks he can hide behind his little drawings?”

Kamal’s hands trembled, clutching his sketchbook. Aisha moved in front of him instinctively. “Stay back,” she said, voice steady despite the pounding of her heart.

The tallest boy laughed, a cruel sound that echoed off the walls of the school yard. “Or what? You’ll draw us to death?”

Kamal flinched but didn’t retreat. His sketchbook opened, pencil moving rapidly, shadows taking shape — not just on paper, but in the energy between them, a palpable aura of defiance and creativity that even the new bullies seemed to feel.

Aisha’s jaw tightened. “Don’t touch him. Not one step closer.”

A tense silence fell. The new bullies were taken aback by her courage — a small girl standing like a wall in front of someone they thought weak.

One of them stepped forward, shoving Kamal lightly. His breath hitched, panic threatening to overwhelm him. But then something shifted.

Kamal looked at Aisha. Not at the bullies. Not at the fear. At her.

And he drew.

Lines flew across the page, jagged yet controlled. Shadows formed into barriers, angles sharp like teeth. The bullies hesitated, unnerved by the intensity, by the raw emotion radiating from the boy they’d intended to intimidate.

Aisha stepped closer, shoulder to shoulder with him, grounding him. “You’re stronger than they are,” she whispered. “I’ve seen it. You’ve survived worse.”

The leader of the group scowled, then backed away, motioning to his friends. “This isn’t over,” he warned. “But we’ll see you tomorrow.”

As they walked away, the tension slowly left Kamal’s shoulders. He exhaled shakily, pencil still in hand.

“You… you were incredible,” Aisha said softly, squeezing his hand.

He nodded, voice still trembling. “I… I couldn’t have done it without you.”

They walked toward the mango tree in silence, letting the tension fade beneath its protective branches. But both knew this wasn’t the end — the shadows of yesterday had reawakened, and the storms were far from over.