A heavy quiet filled our Punjab house, mixed with the smell of jasmine hanging in the air. Saturday afternoons always turned like this - still, closeA, everyone tucked away doing their own thing. Papa liked it that way, calling it Weekend Lockdown, though nobody argued. Each person settled into their usual spot, eyes on books or screens, motionless. The hours passed without words, just the occasional rustle of paper breaking the calm.

  That old wooden flute sat heavy in my palms, gift from Chandru one quiet afternoon. Not a single tune came out right just now. Still, gripping it brought back something - like standing barefoot on soil that remembered your name. A place where wishing wasn’t wasted.

  Footsteps pounded down the hall - Shwetha shoved the door open, breathless. "Akka! Papa’s on his way," she whispered sharp between clenched teeth.

  Fumbling, I pushed the flute deep into the drawer, hidden beneath dog-eared Math papers. Each beat of my heart knocked hard against my chest.

  "Dhanya," Papa said, leaning against the doorframe. He looked tired, the lines around his eyes deeper than usual. "The Science teacher called. She said your project with Adithya and Bharat is the best in the grade. I am proud of you."

  Guilty prickled up my spine. Papa, I appreciate it

  "But," he stepped into the room, his eyes scanning my desk. "She also mentioned that you spend a lot of time in the senior wing during lunch. Is there a reason for that?"

  Shivers ran down my spine. Could only be Vikram. Maybe Monisha spoke first, murmured something to the teacher. The words came slow. Just heading to the music room, Father. Close to where older students walk

  Papa came toward my desk. His hand stayed on the drawer's knob, though he did not pull it open. A quiet truth sits between us now, Dhanya. Like thread holding cloth together, once snapped, everything unravels. Hold tight to that thought

  The moment he walked out, tension stayed behind like a shadow that wouldn’t fade. Slowly, the quiet girl who always followed rules began to slip - her edges blurring. In her place, someone quieter yet sharper started rising. A woman used to hiding now stood more visible, stepping forward where silence once ruled.

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