Unfelt Words, Unfelt Love

The school building stood tall and imposing, its weathered bricks and ivy-covered walls hinting at a long history. Nat stepped off the bus, clutching her bag tightly. Her heart pounded in her chest as she took in the unfamiliar sight. Students moved in groups, chatting and laughing, their voices a chaotic blend that only heightened her nervousness. She felt like an outsider in a world she didn't understand.

The bell rang, and Nat hesitated before following the crowd. The school's interior was a maze of corridors lined with lockers and classrooms, each door looking identical to the next. She held onto the map given to her by the receptionist, her eyes darting between it and the signs on the walls.

"Excuse me," she finally asked a passing teacher, "Can you tell me where Class 11-C is?"

The teacher gave her a quick nod and pointed down the hall. "Second door to your left."

Nat whispered a thank you and hurried down the corridor. The classroom door loomed ahead of her, and she took a deep breath before stepping inside.

The room fell silent as Nat entered. Dozens of curious eyes turned to her, and the weight of their gazes made her stomach churn. The teacher, a tall man with a kind but stern demeanor, motioned for her to come forward.

""You must be the new student," he said." . "Introduce yourself to the class."

Nat's throat felt dry as she stepped closer to the desk. "Hi, I'm Nat," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just moved here."

The teacher nodded. "Welcome, Nat. You can take the empty seat by the window."

Nat shuffled to her seat, her cheeks burning as the whispers began around her. She caught snippets of conversation—questions about where she came from, assumptions about why she moved. She kept her head down, pretending to focus on the notebook in front of her.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Lunchtime was the hardest. The cafeteria was filled with laughter and chatter, but Nat sat alone at the edge of a long table, picking at her food. She felt invisible and painfully aware of her isolation all at once.

By the end of the day, Nat felt drained. The weight of the unfamiliar—new faces, new routines, new expectations—pressed heavily on her. She was especially nervous about being in the commerce department, a stream she had chosen reluctantly. As she boarded the bus to return home, she replayed the events of the day in her mind.

She thought about the girl who smiled at her in the hallway but didn't say a word. She remembered the group of boys who laughed loudly at something as she walked past, unsure if she was the reason for their amusement. She clung to the brief exchange with her desk partner, who had asked her where she was from and about her family during a quiet moment in class.

As the bus bumped along the road, Nat stared out the window, watching the village landscape pass by. She knew the transition wouldn't be easy, but something in her stirred—a quiet resolve to make this place her own, no matter how long it took.