Unfelt Words, Unfelt Love

The drive to the village was long and quiet, broken only by the occasional rumble of the bus and the chirping of crickets as evening approached. Nat leaned against the window, her forehead resting on the cool glass. Her thoughts wandered back to the life she was leaving behind—her friends, her old school, the bustling streets of the city that felt like home. But now, the city was a memory, fading into the distance as the village grew closer.

The house they arrived at was not small. It stood tall and proud, a structure built just a year ago when Nat was in 10th grade. Its spacious rooms and tiled floors were a testament to her family's effort to create a better living environment. Despite its size, it felt cold and unfamiliar, like a stranger's house she was visiting for the first time.

Her mother unlocked the door and stepped inside, followed by her father, who carried most of the luggage. Nat hesitated at the threshold. The scent of fresh paint still lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the surrounding fields. Her sister ran past her, excitedly exploring the rooms. Nat followed slowly, her footsteps echoing in the empty spaces.

Her room was neatly arranged, with a sturdy wooden bed, a study table by the window, and shelves waiting to be filled with her belongings. She placed her bag on the bed and took a deep breath. This was home now, whether she liked it or not.

The first morning in the village began abruptly. The alarm buzzed at 5:30 a.m., and Nat groggily reached out to silence it. Her routine had changed drastically. By 7:30, the school bus would arrive, which meant she had to be up early to get everything done.

She rolled out of bed and headed to her sister's room. "Wake up," she said softly, shaking her gently. Her sister groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. "Come on, we'll be late," Nat urged, this time with more insistence.

Once her sister was awake, Nat grabbed her school uniform and headed to her grandmother's house, which was just a two-minute walk away. At her grandmother's house, her grandma sat by the window, combing her own thin, silvery hair.

"Can you tie my hair?" Nat asked, holding out the ribbons she'd carefully chosen the night before. Her grandmother smiled warmly and motioned for her to sit. As her nimble fingers braided Nat's hair, a sense of comfort washed over her. It was one of the few moments of familiarity in her otherwise chaotic new life.

By 6:30, Nat was in the kitchen, grabbing a quick breakfast her mother had prepared. Her mother's usual strictness softened slightly as she reminded Nat to eat properly before school.

"Don't rush," she said, handing her a glass of milk.

Nat nodded and quickly finished her meal. At 7:15, she stood outside, adjusting her bag straps and waiting for the bus. Her heart raced as she thought about her new school. She wondered what her classmates would be like, whether she'd make friends, and if the teachers would be kind.

The honk of the bus snapped her out of her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she climbed aboard, stepping into yet another unknown.