Chapter Two: Cracks in the Silence
Morning came too quickly.
Feifei lay still on her bed, staring at the faint crack running along the ceiling. She had memorized it over the years—where it started, where it ended, how it split slightly near the corner like it was trying to escape.
She related to it more than she liked to admit.
Voices drifted in from the living room. Someone laughed. Someone complained. Plates clinked together. Life moved forward without waiting for her to feel ready.
Feifei finally sat up and rubbed her eyes. There was no point staying in bed longer. No one would notice anyway.
She got dressed in silence, brushed her hair neatly, and slipped her books into her bag. Before leaving her room, she paused in front of the mirror.
"You're fine," she whispered to her reflection.
The girl staring back nodded, calm and composed.
At school, everything felt louder than usual. The chatter in the hallways, the dragging of chairs, the endless noise of people existing so confidently.
Feifei took her seat by the window, her usual spot. She opened her notebook and pretended to revise, but the words blurred together.
Why does it feel like I'm falling behind… even when I'm doing everything right?
During break, she stayed seated while others rushed out. A group of girls passed by her desk, laughing about something she didn't catch.
One of them glanced at Feifei.
"Does she ever talk?" the girl whispered, not quietly enough.
Feifei heard.
She always heard.
She kept her head down, pretending not to notice the heat creeping up her neck. Her chest tightened slightly, but she breathed through it like she always did.
Don't react. Don't explain. Don't complain.
That afternoon, when she got home, the house felt emptier than usual. She dropped her bag and sat on the couch, staring at the blank television screen.
For the first time in a long while, she felt tired of being strong.
She pulled out her notebook again.
This time, she wrote more.
I don't ask for much.
So why does it feel like too much to exist?
The silence around her felt heavier than noise ever could.