Honestly, it all started so ridiculously small, healing’s never dramatic, right? No cinematic breakthrough, no music swelling in the background. Just a pen. Well, a pen and this old, half-forgotten notebook wedged under a pile of last year’s test papers. Kinda poetic, now that I think about it. Like the universe was nudging her, “Hey, maybe try this.”
First time in weeks, Avyukta didn’t feel that itch to bolt for the hills or disappear into her own hoodie. Nope. She only wanted to spill. Not to anyone else, God, no. To paper. To herself, maybe.
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