No one ever asked me what I wanted. Not once.
As Ameya sat at the dinner table that night, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her mind was anything but still. Her parents talked, made plans, discussed her future like she wasn't even there. Like her thoughts didn't matter.
They didn't see the girl sitting right in front of them. They saw a version they created—a silent, obedient student who would follow every instruction without question. And for the most part, she had.
Until now.
"Ameya's final exams are coming up in eight or nine months," her mother said, breaking the silence. "She should stay focused. No more distractions. After that, she'll find a good job here, in hometown. I don't want her going anywhere else."
Her father nodded, as always. He rarely objected to her mother's decisions.
"You understand, right, Ameya?" he said gently. "We struggled a lot for your sister's education in another city. We can't afford all that again. Just focus on getting high marks. That's all we expect."
Ameya didn't respond. She stared at her plate, her stomach already full—with frustration, not food.
Her mother continued, as if reading from a script. "By the way, your friend Irin's mother called me. Apparently, all the girls in your friends' group are planning to go out of the city for higher education. She said Irin told her that you would be going too. But when I asked you, you said you'd talk to us first. Isn't that right?"
Still, Ameya stayed silent.
Her mother sighed, then turned to her more directly. "I'm telling you now. Don't get influenced by girls like Irin. She's not the right kind of friend for you. I didn't say anything before, but I'm saying it now. Stay away. Friends like her will distract you from what's important. You have only two choices—study or get a job here, in this hometown. Nowhere else."
And just like that, something inside Ameya snapped.
She dropped her spoon with a sharp clink and looked up, her eyes brimming with fury.
"Why do you always control me?" Her voice rose like thunder—louder than she ever imagined she could be. "Did you ever ask me what I want to become? No, right?"
Her mother froze.
"You don't know anything about me! You don't know that I barely have friends because you don't want me being close to anyone. You don't even like my classmates when they come near the house. And now, you're choosing who I should or shouldn't be friends with?"
"Ameya—" her father said softly, startled.
"No, Papa," she said, turning to him, "I've stayed quiet for too long. All of you keep making decisions for me, but never with me."
Tears welled in her eyes as she stood up from the table.
"I don't want to become what you want. I don't want to work in IT or stay locked in this city forever. I want to be a dancer. That's what I've always wanted. And I will be one!"
With that, she ran to her room and slammed the door behind her.
That night was the longest night of Ameya's life.
She couldn't sleep. Her pillow was soaked with tears as every emotion she'd buried came pouring out. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. And above all—fear.
Had she ruined everything?
But somewhere deep inside, she felt a strange relief too. At least now… they knew.
Outside, the house was quiet. Her mother sat in the living room, her hands trembling, her thoughts racing.
"I… I didn't know," she whispered to her husband. "She never said a word."
"You never gave her the chance," he replied gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "She's growing up. And we need to listen now."
Her mother stared at the closed door to Ameya's room, her heart aching. She had always believed she was protecting her daughter. But now, for the first time, she wondered if she had been holding her back instead.