The day began as it always did, with Melody's alarm blaring at 4 a.m., its piercing shrill cutting through the stillness of her small, dimly lit room. She groaned, the weight of the day already pressing on her chest before her feet even touched the cold wooden floor. The events of the previous evening replayed in her mind, her father’s harsh words and the looming promise of "atonement" ringing like a bitter echo. She knew better than to hope for leniency; her "behavior" had drawn his wrath, and she would face the consequences.
Her chores stretched on endlessly - scrubbing the hostel floors until they shone as if polished by the moonlight they worshipped, meticulously cleaning the shared bathrooms until every surface gleamed, and plotting to vacuum each floor in the precious sliver of time
