After everything that had happened, Siya tried to live like it never did.
She put on the brightest version of herself-the one that danced, laughed, studied hard, and shined in every competition.
She became the topper of her class.
The girl everyone clapped for. The one teachers mentioned during speeches.
She was good in everything-sports, dance, poetry recitation, science exhibitions.
People called her extraordinary.
But what they didn't see was that she wasn't trying to be the best.
She was trying to distract herself from the worst.
Because the applause outside didn't silence the screams in her head.
When she was five, her world shifted again.
A baby brother was born.
At first, she held him with gentle hands and glowing eyes.
She thought love would multiply. That now there'd be more of it to go around.
But love didn't multiply.
It divided. And she got the smaller share.
Her parents became obsessed with her brother.
They clicked his photos day and night. Bought him toys, told stories about his every sneeze.
They stopped noticing Siya.
And it wasn't the gifts that hurt.
It was the way they forgot to ask her how her day was.
How she stopped getting hugged after school.
How her medals started collecting dust because no one clapped anymore-not at home.
She didn't grow jealous.
She grew quiet.
Her love for them didn't stop.
But her heart learned something:
Even gods can be replaced.
And as if that wasn't enough, her freedom was taken too.
She was never allowed to step out without permission. Not to play. Not to walk.
All because they belonged to a political family, where image was everything.
"She's a girl. If she does one wrong thing, the world will talk," they'd say.
But the world had already done worse to her.
And no one talked about that.
Her father had started drinking.
Some nights were calm. Some turned into war zones of shouting and slammed doors.
He'd fight with her mother-words sharp enough to bleed.
But not once did he raise his voice at Siya.
He called her his princess. Said she was his pride.
But even she knew-
A man who creates chaos isn't a hero just because he spares one person.
The house didn't feel like home anymore.
It felt like a stage.
Everyone pretending. Everyone watching. No one listening.
And just when she thought she'd gotten used to the silence,
life made it louder.
It happened again.
She was groped. Not by one, but two uncles.
One-the same man who had once trapped her at five.
The other-a man she trusted deeply.
The brother of her favorite aunt.
She had gone there with no fear.
She had smiled when she entered.
She had thought, maybe this time, nothing bad would happen.
But monsters wear familiar faces.
They use soft voices. They know your name.
And that day, they used their hands too.
She couldn't breathe properly after it.
Not just because of what they did-
but because she couldn't scream.
She wanted to.
But no sound came out.
Her throat was made of glass.
She ran again.
Like the first time.
Only this time, she didn't run to her mother.
She didn't say a word to anyone.
Because what do you say when you already weren't believed once?
So she held it inside.
And the next day, she woke up.
Washed her face. Went to school. Smiled.
Because she had mastered it now.
The art of surviving without being seen.