It was late afternoon, and the apartment was quiet. Mina sat on her small bed, hugging her knees. All the feelings she had been holding inside — the frustration at school, the unfairness, the loneliness, the longing for Kai, the weight of family struggles — bubbled up like a storm finally breaking.
She let herself cry. Not a quiet, careful cry, but one that shook her body and emptied her chest. For the first time in a long while, she didn't try to hide it, didn't try to be strong. Taro peeked in, hesitated, then quietly sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
"It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay to feel."
Mina nodded, wiping tears from her cheeks. She realized something important: she didn't always have to hold everything in. Sometimes, letting her emotions out made her stronger, more human.
The next day at school, she felt a little lighter. She still helped friends, still raised her hand, still walked her penguin shuffle when nerves got the better of her. But now, she carried something different — a quiet confidence born from finally acknowledging her feelings and giving herself permission to be vulnerable.
Even Mrs. Hartley noticed, in small ways. When Mina answered a question clearly and politely, the teacher nodded approvingly. It wasn't much, but it was something.
And Mina knew that sometimes, the smallest recognition, combined with her own inner strength, could make the world feel a little less