chapter 4 Unseen bruises
904 Words
Aria barely stepped back into the kitchen when Selda thrust a small basket into her hands.
“Since you’re pretending to be useful,” Selda said, “go to the market. Mira finished the herbs yesterday, and I need more ginger roots. Don’t waste my time.”
Mira was aria's cousin selder’s daughter
Mira folded her arms, smirking.
“She’ll probably mess it up.”
Aria didn’t answer. She tied the basket and hurried out of the house before Selda found something else to complain about.
Outside, the village felt awake already—women sweeping their compounds, children running barefoot, and the familiar smell of wood smoke in the air.
As Aria walked, she kept her head down.
Not because she wanted to, but because people stared.
Some out of curiosity.
Some out of pity.
Some out of gossip.
A group of younger boys whispered loudly as she passed.
“That’s the girl Selda keeps shouting at every day.”
“She always looks tired.”
“I heard she works like a servant.”
Aria didn’t look at them, but her chest tightened.
When she reached the market, she greeted the spice seller, Mama Ozi.
“Ah, Aria,” Mama Ozi said with a soft sigh. “You’re here again. Hope that woman isn’t overworking you.”
Aria forced a smile.
“I’m fine, ma.”
“You’re always fine,” Mama Ozi muttered, selecting the ginger. “Yet your eyes say you’re not.”
Aria didn’t know how to respond, so she stayed quiet.
Mama Ozi packed the ginger into the basket, and as Aria reached for the pouch of coins, Mira suddenly appeared beside her.
Aria froze.
Mira must have followed her.
“What are you doing here?” Aria asked quietly.
Mira rolled her eyes.
“My mother sent me to check if you’d embarrass us. And look—Mama Ozi is already lecturing you.”
Mama Ozi frowned.
“You children must learn kindness. Don’t talk to her like that.”
Mira scoffed.
“Mind your business”
Before Mama Ozi could reply, Mira grabbed Aria’s arm.
“Let’s go.”
As they were leaving, Aria whispered, “You didn’t need to come.”
“Yes, I did,” Mira hissed. “My mom said if you stay too long, she’ll punish both of us. And I’m not getting punished because of you.”
Aria stayed silent.
On their way home, the village gossip, Mama Tera, stopped them.
“Aria,” Mama Tera called, “I heard you were ill last week. Why don’t they allow you to rest?”
Mira answered quickly.
“She wasn’t sick. She’s just dramatic.”
Mama Tera stared at Aria, unconvinced.
“You’re getting thinner, child.”
Aria swallowed.
“It’s nothing, ma.”
Mira nudged her hard.
“Let’s go before my mom thinks you’re telling stories.”
When they reached the house, Rae was waiting in the doorway with folded arms
Rae is also selder's daughter, Mira's sister
“You two took forever,” she said.
Mira shoved the basket into Aria’s hands.
“Tell Aunt you carried everything.”
Rae smirked.
“Yes, tell her. She’ll like that.”
Aria didn’t bother arguing.
Inside, Selda snatched the basket and checked the contents.
“You got the wrong size ginger,” she snapped.
“No—I bought exactly what you said—”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
Selda slapped the basket onto the counter. “Do it again. And don’t come back until it’s the right size!”
Aria blinked fast, trying not to cry.
“I—I don’t have money—”
“Then take from your cousin’s purse,” Selda said carelessly. “Since she earns nothing, she can at least use her face for something.”
Mira gasped.
“Mom”
But Selda ignored her.
Aria slowly left the house again, this time her hands empty.
Her eyes burned. Not from tears—she was used to tears.
From humiliation.
She walked past the houses, the noise of the village blurring into a distant hum. People she passed glanced at her, and she forced her expression to stay calm.
Inside her, everything felt heavy.
When she reached Mama Ozi again, the woman looked startled.
“You’re back? What happened?”
Aria whispered, “She said the ginger was wrong.”
Mama Ozi sighed deeply.
“Aria… I gave you the right one. She’s just looking for something to shout about.”
Aria lowered her gaze.
Mama Ozi gently touched her hand.
“Child, are you sure you can keep living like this?”
Aria nodded weakly.
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
But the words hurt even as she said them.
Mama Ozi quietly repacked the ginger—bigger pieces this time, even though the price was higher.
“Take it. Tell her you paid for the size she wanted.”
“I don’t have money—”
“I didn’t ask for money.”
Aria’s throat tightened.
She whispered, “Thank you.”
“Go quickly,” Mama Ozi said. “Before she finds another excuse.”
Aria held the ginger close and started back home, walking faster this time.
She didn’t know this small errand would be the beginning of the day her life took a different turn…
But for now, she just needed to survive until night.
- Writer
