Nights in the Maheswara home were much like mornings. Not completely silent, but never noisy either. The sound of the wind from the ventilation and footsteps in the hallway filled the house with a regular rhythm, like an old, unchanging habit.
In her room, Nayara sat at her study desk. A small lamp in the corner illuminated the pages of the notebook she carried with her every day—a book filled with neat writing, with lines that almost never strayed.
Her hand moved slowly, steadily. Her pen danced as usual, with a consistent tempo.
Writing reflections had become her nightly habit. A way to organize her thoughts after a long day. That night, she wrote:
"I'm starting to get tired of the monotony of life. Maybe I just need something that makes me feel different. …Color. Yes, I need color."
She stared at the sentence for a long time, replaying its meaning in her head. Only then did she begin to write down the things she needed to finish tomorrow.
From outside the room, footsteps sounded again. Heavy, rhythmic steps, her father's signature. Nayara closed her book and put her pen back in its place.
The door didn't open. Only the shadow of her father's feet briefly appeared in the gap under the door before the footsteps receded into the study.
She knew the routine. Her father always checked the children's room before writing in his study, making sure everything was okay—just like their lives.
Nayara turned her gaze to the window.
The night air felt colder than usual. She pulled the thin blanket up to her shoulders and opened her book again. Her hand moved toward the pen, but stopped before touching it. She hesitated.
She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes.
From outside, a soft sound came: tick… tick… tick…
The first raindrops fell against the windowpane.
Nayara opened her eyes. The light from the desk lamp reflected off the glass, forming small, abstract lines—not straight, not neat, but still beautiful. She watched the water droplets slowly fall, following their own paths.
Perhaps, she murmured quietly to herself, the world also needed a pause before starting again.
She closed her notebook, turned off the desk lamp, and let the only light in the room come from the moon outside the window.