The Day We Started Over

CHAPTER 7 – STORMS WE HIDE

The days after their secret meetings under the mango tree became Aisha’s lifeline. Each morning, her steps felt lighter knowing that she had a safe place waiting for her, and someone who saw her — truly saw her.

But life, as always, has a way of sneaking its storms back in when you least expect it.

The first sign came at school during morning assembly. A group of boys — notorious for their relentless teasing — had been watching Kamal ever since he transferred. They had noticed him leaving class early, spending too much time alone, and, most dangerously, being near Aisha.

“You know,” one of them whispered, loud enough for Kamal to hear, “that new guy… thinks he can hang with everyone and get away with it?”

Aisha stiffened beside Kamal. He didn’t look at them. He didn’t react. But she could feel the tension radiating off him, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

The boys laughed loudly, nudging each other, as if daring someone to respond. Kamal kept his head down, drawing in his notebook, pretending they didn’t exist.

But Aisha knew he felt the same fear she carried at home — that paralyzing dread when someone’s cruelty feels inevitable.

As the day went on, the bullying escalated. Kamal’s bag was knocked to the floor in the hallway, his sketchbook slipping open to reveal a page she had never seen before — the drowning girl, hand reaching out, eyes wide with panic.

A hush fell. Some students whispered; some laughed cruelly. But the image struck Aisha like a punch.

“Why do you draw weird stuff like that?” one of the boys sneered. “Freak.”

Kamal froze. His lips trembled. Aisha stepped forward instinctively, chest tight with anger.

“Leave him alone,” she snapped. Her voice was soft, but there was fire in it.

The boys laughed again. “Oh, the quiet girl finally talks,” one jeered. “What are you gonna do? Protect him?”

Aisha’s hands shook. She wasn’t usually bold, but the thought of Kamal shrinking under their cruel eyes made something inside her snap.

Before she could react further, Kamal’s notebook fell to the floor completely. A drawing spilled out — the boy in the corner of a dark room, shadow looming over him.

The room went quiet, except for the taunting laughter that had now faltered.

Someone — a teacher — finally intervened, shooing the boys away. Kamal didn’t look at anyone. He picked up the notebook, flipping quickly to hide the drawings.

Aisha followed him quietly after class.

“Kamal… you okay?” she asked softly, careful not to push too much.

He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were dark, stormy, a mixture of fear, shame, and anger.

“I… I’m used to it,” he said finally. “People seeing this… seeing me… makes it worse.”

Aisha touched his arm lightly. “You don’t have to be used to it alone. I’m here.”

He swallowed hard. The tightness in his chest slowly loosened. “Thanks,” he whispered.

That afternoon, they met at their secret spot. The mango tree stood tall, leaves rustling gently, but the world beyond it felt heavier, sharper, crueler.

Kamal opened his sketchbook again, hands trembling slightly. He drew quickly, furiously, lines jagged and chaotic. Each stroke seemed to release some of the tension that had built up inside him throughout the day.

Aisha watched, sitting beside him. “You don’t have to do it alone,” she said again, softly.

“I know,” he said, eyes still on the page. “But… it’s all I have to cope. If I stop… if I show weakness… they’ll take everything from me.”

Her heart ached. She wanted to scream at the world for being so cruel. But instead, she leaned close and whispered, “You’re stronger than you think.”

He looked at her then, and for a moment, the boy hiding behind fear and bruises seemed to dissolve, replaced by someone just… human.

They stayed there under the mango tree until the sun dipped low. The shadows stretched, long and protective, like a blanket shielding them from the world.

And for the first time, they both realized something important: storms don’t only exist outside. They exist inside, too — and sometimes, the only way to survive them is to face them together.

As Aisha walked home that evening, the streets felt darker than usual. She could feel the storm following her — not the rain, but the echo of cruelty and danger.

Her chest tightened. She knew their safe space wouldn’t shield them forever.

But she also knew this: they were no longer hiding alone.

And that… made all the difference.