Chapter 3 – The Weight of Yesterday

The door clicked shut behind her. For a second, Ishani just stood there, her hand still resting on the knob, the silence pressing against her chest.

The letter trembled in her fingers — the one she had waited months for. The one that carried her dream.

She sat on her bed, eyes fixed on her name printed neatly at the top.

“Admission confirmed,” it read.

A soft, bitter laugh escaped her lips.

“I did it… I actually did it,” she whispered, voice barely a breath. “And they didn’t even look at me.”

The words felt heavy. Like they’d been waiting too long to be said.

She ran her thumb over the edge of the paper, careful not to tear it. “I thought… maybe this time, Papa would smile. Or Ma would… just look proud. For once.”

But the laughter from the breakfast table still echoed in her head — the claps, the praise, the love that was never hers.

She looked up at the ceiling, blinking hard.

When did it start?

When did everything begin to fall apart?

...----------------...

She was ten again. The school hall smelled like chalk dust and sweat. Both she and Ishania were on stage that day — same competition, same excitement.

But only one name was called.

“Ishani Rajesh Sharma — first place.”

Her little hands had trembled as she held the trophy, eyes searching the crowd for her parents. Rajesh had smiled faintly, distracted.

“That’s good, beta,” he said, already looking away.

Her mother had gone straight to Ishania. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ll win next time, hmm? You were amazing.”

Ishani had stood there, holding her trophy tighter, feeling something small die inside her.

That was the first time she realized — love wasn’t something everyone got equally.

......................

The next memory came uninvited, like a cut reopening.

They were playing in the backyard. Ishania on the swing, Ishani pushing gently, Raghav laughing nearby. The sun was soft that evening — the kind that made everything feel gold.

Then suddenly — a scream.

A fall.

A cry that pierced straight through her.

“Ishani pushed me!”

Her father came running. “What happened?!”

“She pushed me, Papa!” Ishania sobbed, holding her arm.

“I didn’t!” Ishani’s voice shook. “I swear, I didn’t even—”

Rajesh’s face hardened. “How could you hurt your own sister?”

“I didn’t!”

Shobha’s voice snapped through the air. “Enough. Apologize.”

“But I didn’t—”

“Apologize!”

She did. Because that’s what peace looked like in that house — her silence.

......................

Years blurred after that.

One accusation after another.

One small mistake was enough for everyone to believe she was the problem.

Until that night by the pool.

They were fifteen. The air smelled like rain and chlorine. The fight started small — it always did.

“You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” Ishania spat.

“I didn’t say that,” Ishani whispered, tired. “We’re the same. You’re my sister. Why do you—”

“Don’t call me that!” she shouted. “You ruined everything. They used to love me! And now it’s always you! You and your fake innocence!”

“Ishania, that’s not true,” she tried to reason. “They love you, too.”

“Lies!” Ishania’s eyes burned. “You took them from me. You took everything.”

And then it happened too fast — a slip, a splash, a scream.

“Ishania!” Ishani yelled, dropping to her knees. “Give me your hand!”

The maid came running, water splashing everywhere, pulling the shivering girl out.

Minutes later, Rajesh and Shobha burst into the garden.

“What happened here?!”

Before Ishani could speak, the maid stammered, “Sir, I think Ishani… she was near the pool—”

That was enough.

Rajesh’s eyes turned red. “You pushed her?”

“No! Papa, I didn’t—”

The slap came before she could finish.

Her cheek burned, her heart stopped.

Shobha’s voice sliced through the night. “You could’ve killed your sister! You’re a disgrace!”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up!”

Raghav stood there, silent. Cold. Watching her fall apart.

And when her father grabbed the belt, she didn’t even run.

She just stood there, because she’d already learned — no one would believe her.

...****************...

Back in her room, Ishani pressed her hands over her face, but the tears slipped through anyway.

They were quiet, slow — the kind that didn’t need sound to hurt.

“Why me?” she whispered. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Her phone buzzed once.

📱Didi, don’t cry. I’m proud of you. You did it. ❤️

Meera.

A broken smile tugged at Ishani’s lips. “At least someone still sees me.”

Her eyes drifted to the framed photo on her desk — Diwali night at Karan’s house. She, Karan, and his parents, laughing, her face glowing with genuine joy.

Karan’s mother had hugged her before she left that night. “You’re always welcome here, beta. You’re family.”

That word "family "still echoed in her heart.

She wiped her tears, folding the admission letter neatly and tucking it between her diary pages. “Maybe one day,” she whispered, “I’ll stop trying to earn their love.”

The wind outside brushed against the window, carrying the faint sound of morning traffic and life that went on just like hers had to.

She closed her eyes. “Maybe this is just the beginning.”

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