Laughter That Hurts

Episode Three: Not Invisible Anymore

It was Monday again—the beginning of another long, exhausting week filled with stress and heavy academic pressure. Not that I had a choice. Mondays always came whether I liked them or not.

I rushed to the school canteen that morning because I had woken up late and missed breakfast at home. That was how Mondays usually looked after a free weekend of sleeping and waking whenever I pleased.

The canteen was already crowded. I joined the queue quietly and waited my turn, my stomach grumbling softly. When I finally got served, I carried my tray—Milo and toasted bread—and scanned the place for an empty table. Most of the tables were filled with loud laughter and animated conversations.

I settled at a small corner table and began to eat, trying not to draw attention to myself.

“Can I sit with you?”

I looked up, startled by the voice. There she was—the new girl. Sama.

She stood there smiling broadly, her crystal-white teeth glowing like she had known me forever. She looked effortlessly beautiful, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Sure… why not?” I replied, returning her smile.

She sat opposite me with her own tray, and for a while, we ate in comfortable silence. It wasn’t awkward. Just calm.

“So,” she said gently, “how long have you been in this school?”

That wasn’t bad. She was trying.

“Well,” I hesitated, then smiled, “let’s say over three years now.”

“Oh, that’s great,” she said, nodding.

“And you?” I asked, determined not to let the conversation die.

“Why did you leave your former school?”

“Well, my mom got transferred, so we had to move,” she explained.

“That must be hard,” I said quietly. “Leaving your friends behind and starting all over again.”

She smiled in a way that made my chest tighten.

“Well, as you can see, I’m coping just fine. I’m adapting.”

Then she added softly, “And I think we’re friends now.”

My heart skipped a beat.

Before I could respond, the siren rang for assembly. We stood up and walked together, talking about nothing and everything—school rules, teachers, random stories. For once, I didn’t feel invisible.

The rest of the day passed faster than I expected. When closing time came, I packed my books quickly. As I lifted my bag, a folded piece of paper slipped out and landed on the floor.

I picked it up.

Wait for me at the gate after assembly.

I smiled to myself and slipped it back into my bag.

She was already waiting when I got there.

“Hey, Lucy!” she called out brightly.

“Hey you,” I replied, teasing. “What’s with the happy face?”

“My driver won’t be able to pick me up today,” she said. “Do you mind if I walk home with you?”

“I’d love that,” I replied without hesitation.

As we walked, she asked about my day. I told her English was manageable, but maths and science were my biggest headaches.

“I’m good with numbers,” she said. “I can help you, if you don’t mind.”

My face lit up. “Really?”

“Thirty minutes after school every day,” she suggested.

“Deal.”

At our junction, she hugged me. Just like that.

That night, as I lay in bed, one thought stayed with me:

Maybe this was the beginning of something good.