The Day We Started Over

CHAPTER 5 – THE SECRET MEETING PLACE

The next morning, the rain had stopped, but the streets were slick and shiny, reflecting the early sunlight like mirrors. Aisha walked to school slowly, her bag swinging lightly against her side. Her mind was half on classwork, half on the thought of Kamal, on the way he had looked yesterday — fragile, quiet, yet somehow unbreakable in small ways.

She arrived at school early, hoping for a few peaceful moments before the chaos began. But as usual, the halls started filling quickly, the air heavy with chatter, laughter, and the occasional insult. She passed by the usual clusters of girls gossiping, boys laughing too loudly, the smell of overcooked beans and fried snacks drifting from the street vendors. She kept her head down, as always, blending in as much as possible.

That’s when she heard the faint sound of footsteps behind her.

“Hey…”

She turned slowly and found him there, sketchbook clutched to his chest. Kamal. He looked less tense than yesterday, but the slight dark circle under his eyes betrayed sleepless nights.

“Hey,” she said softly, cautious.

“Morning,” he replied. His voice had a strange softness to it today, like he wasn’t bracing for battle, like he wasn’t expecting the world to be cruel.

They walked together toward the school entrance. Neither spoke much, but the silence between them felt different — comfortable, almost like a secret cocoon against the noisy, judgmental world around them.

Then, as if on impulse, Kamal glanced around, checking to make sure no one was watching. “Want to see something?” he asked, voice low.

Aisha raised an eyebrow. “See what?”

He grinned faintly, almost shyly. “My secret spot. Not many people know about it.”

Curiosity sparked in her chest. “Lead the way,” she said, keeping her voice neutral.

They walked quietly down the alley behind the school, the sun warming their backs, the street eerily quiet this early. Kamal led her past the usual gates and fences, deeper into the maze of narrow paths, until they arrived at a small, abandoned lot tucked behind a wall of overgrown bushes.

It wasn’t much — a few broken benches, an old mango tree with a sturdy trunk and low-hanging branches, and patches of grass trying to reclaim the soil. But to Kamal, it was perfect.

“This is it?” Aisha asked, looking around.

Kamal nodded. “This is my safe place. When things get too much… I come here. No one bothers me. No one yells. No one watches. Just… peace.”

Aisha approached the tree and ran her fingers along its rough bark. The air smelled faintly of rain and earth. She closed her eyes, letting herself breathe deeply for the first time all morning.

“It’s… nice,” she said quietly.

“It’s more than nice,” Kamal murmured. “It’s quiet in a way that feels alive.”

They sat under the tree, the grass damp beneath them. Kamal pulled out his sketchbook and flipped to a blank page. He handed her a pencil.

“Try,” he said simply.

Aisha hesitated. She hadn’t drawn anything in years. But she took it anyway, her fingers brushing against his. She could feel the warmth, the pulse of life beneath the skin, faint but steady.

She drew awkwardly at first — lines, shapes, nothing coherent. But Kamal didn’t correct her or comment. He just watched, a silent presence, not judgmental, not intrusive.

After a few minutes, Kamal spoke. “Show me.”

She turned the notebook toward him. It wasn’t good, not really, but it was… hers.

Kamal smiled softly. “It’s honest. That’s what matters.”

Her chest warmed at the word, honest. Honest wasn’t something she often experienced. People around her were either cruel or indifferent. But here, honesty was safe.

Then, without warning, Kamal flipped to his own sketchbook. He had drawn the mango tree, the broken benches, the abandoned lot — and in the center, a small figure seated on the grass. The figure had her head tilted downward, a faint curve of a smile — not perfect, but present.

Aisha felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. “You drew me?”

Kamal’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I didn’t mean to… not exactly. But… you were here, so…”

She swallowed hard, feeling something she hadn’t allowed herself in a long time: connection.

They sat there for hours, the sun climbing higher and warming their backs. They talked quietly about small things — favorite foods, books they liked, moments that made them smile. Every word between them felt like a fragile promise, like they were building a tiny island of safety in a stormy world.

At one point, Aisha glanced at him, noticing the faint bruises on his wrists, the slight tremor when he laughed. She didn’t comment. She didn’t need to. She simply reached out and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. A small gesture, but it was enough.

Kamal looked at her then, his eyes dark and conflicted. “You… you shouldn’t care so much,” he said quietly.

“I do,” she whispered. “Because someone has to.”

He swallowed hard. He looked away, out at the horizon. “I don’t… I don’t know if I can be like everyone else. Normal. Not broken.”

Aisha touched his arm gently. “You don’t have to be normal. You just have to be you. And… maybe that’s enough.”

The moment hung heavy between them, thick with unspoken fears, hopes, and fragile trust.

Then a crow cawed loudly from the rooftop nearby, breaking the silence. Kamal laughed softly — the sound shaky, but genuine.

Aisha smiled back. It was a smile that held a mixture of relief and recognition. They were both fighting storms they didn’t share with anyone else — and somehow, here, under this mango tree, they could breathe.

As the school bell rang in the distance, signaling the start of the day proper, Kamal packed his sketchbook.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked quietly.

Aisha nodded, heart racing. “Same time.”

And for the first time in her life, Aisha felt like maybe… just maybe… she could survive the chaos at home.

Because outside, under this mango tree, someone saw her. Truly saw her.

And that… was everything.