In Bandra, one of the busiest places in Mumbai, the monsoon rains didn't just pour; they roared down from the sky like they had a point to prove. Here lived Meera, a seventeen-year-old girl whose mind seemed to be in its own kind of storm, even on the wettest days.
The rain matched the way she felt inside: a mix of nervousness and worry that never seemed to stop. When she looked out her window in the morning, the grey sky felt like a blanket that was too heavy, and the rain seemed to wash away all the colors of her world.
Getting ready for school was like a quiet fight with invisible enemies. Meera would look in the mirror, wishing her reflection could tell her everything would be okay. But the girl looking back just had big, worried eyes and shadows beneath them from too many nights lying awake.
At the breakfast table, her mom and dad were both busy with their own morning routines. They didn't notice how Meera left her tea untouched or how her hand shook a little when she picked up her paratha.
With her umbrella in hand, Meera stepped out into the streets, where the rain turned everything into a wet blur. She walked to school, trying not to think about slipping on the wet sidewalks or getting lost in the crowd of honking cars and buses.
School was loud and full of kids everywhere. Meera moved through the halls as if she was trying to be invisible. She stayed close to the walls and out of the way, hoping to get through the day without being noticed.
But today there was something she couldn't avoid: a presentation in her English class. She had to stand up in front of everyone and talk about Shakespeare, and the thought made her heart race. She felt as out of place as a quiet whisper in a room full of shouting, and all she could think about was how much she wanted this day to be over.