It was during the summer of fifth grade when my father took me to Dimapur.
He had work that would keep him away for weeks, so I stayed at my dad's friend's place. When the aunt told me I could enroll in a computer class nearby, I agreed immediately. I had always liked computers. They were like a gateway to a whole other world.
In class, I sat still.
I listened carefully. Followed instructions. Kept my eyes on the screen. I didn't speak unless necessary. Silence was familiar. Comfortable.
One afternoon, a voice interrupted it.
I looked over.
It was a girl sitting next to me—someone I recognized from class but had never really spoken to. She was staring at her screen, brows slightly furrowed, the mouse barely moving in her hand. After a second, she glanced at me, hesitant.
"Uh… could you help me for a second?"
I slid my chair a little closer, careful not to bump into hers, and gently took the mouse. The cursor felt too sensitive, like it might jump if I rushed it. I adjusted the font size, slowed the scrolling, fixed whatever setting she'd accidentally changed.
"It's… done. Like this," I said, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.
"Oh—thanks! I get it now."
She smiled, quick and genuine, then turned back to her screen.
I nodded, unsure what else to do, and returned to my work. My face felt warmer than before.
After class, while I was packing up my notebook and shutting down the computer, I heard her again.
"Your name was Eshan, right? See you tomorrow."
"Okay…" I replied, surprised by how easily she said it.
Her name was Lilia.
She was just a classmate—nothing more than that—but she was friendly in a way I hadn't expected. Back then, I always felt a little out of place, like I was occupying a seat that didn't fully belong to me. Still, every morning, she greeted me.
"Good morning, Eshan."
"Morning…"
During class, she'd often lean over slightly, careful not to draw attention.
"Eshan, could you help me with this again?"
"Sure…"
The questions were always small, almost apologetic.
"I can't move my mouse."
"I don't see the review tab."
"How do we undo this?"
Each time, I'd show her, and each time she'd say thank you like it actually mattered.
"Thanks for always helping, Eshan. You know so much about this."
I never really knew how to respond to that. Most days I just nodded, or murmured something that didn't sound convincing even to me. But slowly, without realizing it, I started looking forward to that class. Not because of anything big—just those moments. The way someone spoke to me like I was reliable.
Later, a rumor started going around.
Lilia was apparently dating a guy from our class—Nara. He was the kind of person everyone noticed without trying. Good-looking. Popular.
When I heard it, I didn't feel disappointed. Not really.
I had never taken her kindness as something it wasn't. I never assumed it meant more. She was kind because that's who she was—and honestly, I was glad for her.
That was all.
Then one day, after class, I went back to the room to collect something I had forgotten.
A group of boys were gathered around a desk. Laughing. Watching something on a phone. I wasn't trying to look—but I did.
My stomach dropped.
I recognized who it was immediately.
I walked straight to Nara.
"Hey, Nara, can I borrow your phone for a second?" I asked, doing my best to keep my voice steady.
He looked at me, frowning. "Huh? Why would you want my phone?"
"I just… I thought I saw something, and I want to make sure…" I trailed off, unsure of how to say it. My chest tightened with an uncomfortable urgency that I couldn't shake.
Nara's expression hardened. "Get lost."
I hesitated, but the image I'd glimpsed kept flashing in my mind, too disturbing to ignore. I couldn't just walk away. Taking a deep breath, I tried again. "Please, Nara, just let me see it. I… I have to make sure."
Nara's face twisted into a scowl, and he gave a short, bitter laugh. "So, you're curious, huh? Well, yeah, what you saw was right. It's her picture."
I swallowed, feeling a knot of unease in my stomach. "Then… why is she half-naked in it?"
Nara shrugged carelessly. "So what? She's my girlfriend. She can do whatever she wants."
"But… then why are you showing it around to everyone?" My voice was barely more than a whisper, but I could feel anger creeping up inside me.
He looked at me with a smirk, eyes cold. "That's my business. What, did you want to see her naked, too? You could've just asked."
I told him again to delete it.
He laughed, told me to make him.
I stepped closer, tried to grab the phone. Someone shoved me back. Hard. My hands scraped the floor. I got up anyway.
I tried again.
That's when he hit me.
The pain hit first—sharp, breath-stealing. My body folded before my mind could catch up. I heard laughter behind him. Not surprise. Not confusion. Laughter.
He leaned down and said things I didn't want to remember. Things meant to humiliate. Things meant to remind me that he had control.
But something inside of me broke.
I knew I shouldn't—but my body moved anyway
I hit him.
Once. Then again.
Everything blurred after that. Hands grabbed my arms. Someone punched my side. Someone else shouted. I fought without thinking. Not to win. But to make him suffer.
When teachers rushed in.
I looked down, breathing hard, my fists still throbbing.
Nara was on the ground.
His face was bruised, but what stood out more than the damage was the look on him—shock, not pain. Like he couldn't believe this had actually happened. The realization hit me all at once, heavy and delayed, crashing into the adrenaline still buzzing in my head.
Before I could say anything, one of his friends stepped forward.
"Ma'am," he said loudly, too quickly, "Eshan just started hitting Nara out of nowhere. Nara didn't even fight back. He just kept swinging."
The words landed wrong. Too smooth. Too prepared.
I froze, staring at them. The lies spilled out so easily it felt unreal—like they'd rehearsed this version long before today. My thoughts scrambled, still disoriented, my mouth refusing to form the words I needed.
The teacher's gaze locked onto me, sharp and unforgiving.
"Why did you do that, Eshan?" she demanded. "Explain yourself. Now."
I tried to speak.
Before a sound escaped, another voice cut in.
"Ma'am, it's because Eshan got jealous," Nara's other friend said. "Nara was close to Lilia. Eshan told him to stay away from her, and then he attacked him."
Jealous?
The word didn't make sense. None of this did. They were twisting everything—lying straight to my face, without hesitation, without shame. My head filled with noise: disbelief, anger, and something sharper beneath it. Hurt. Each lie chipped away at something inside me, and I couldn't tell what hurt more—the situation, or how easily they were doing this.
I still couldn't speak.
The teacher grabbed my arm, her grip firm as she pulled me toward the door. I tried to protest, to say something—anything—but she shut me down with a single look.
Dismissive. Final.
In the office, I sat stiffly, my pulse still racing. I glanced at Nara.
He wasn't looking at me.
His eyes were down, his expression calm—almost pleased. The faint smirk on his face twisted my stomach. I'd tried to stop him from hurting someone. I'd done what I thought was right. And somehow, it had turned into this.
A few minutes later, my aunt arrived.
For a brief moment, relief flickered. Maybe she'd listen. Maybe she'd understand.
She didn't.
Her face was tight with anger, and before I could open my mouth, her hand came down and slapped across my cheek. The sound echoed louder than I expected.
The sting burned instantly, spreading across my skin, straight into my chest. It wasn't just the pain—it was the certainty behind it. She hadn't come to hear my side. She'd already decided.
"Why would you do this, Eshan?" she snapped. "Why would you hurt someone over this? Don't you feel any shame?"
"Aunty, it's not like that—it's just that Nara—"
"Stop."
One word. Cold. Absolute.
"I put you in this course because you were interested," she continued, "not so you could fight over some girl. Do you have any idea how ashamed your parents will be when they hear about this?"
The words trapped themselves in my throat. I felt like I was shouting inside my own head, but nothing reached the surface. Everything I'd done—everything I thought mattered—felt distorted, turned into something ugly.
She yanked me up by the arm.
"Say sorry to Nara. Right now."
I shook my head weakly. "No… I won't…"
Her grip tightened, painful. She pulled me closer, her voice low, sharp.
"Say it. Or I'll tell your parents exactly what kind of shameful thing you've done."
I looked away. My throat burned.
"Eshan!" she snapped. "Say it."
"I'm sorry, Nara…"
The words came out barely audible.
She wasn't done.
"Say it properly. Say sorry for hitting him. And promise you won't do it again."
Each word scraped on the way out.
"I'm sorry, Nara… for hitting you… and I won't do it again."
The room fell silent.
When I finally looked up, Nara still wouldn't meet my eyes. The smirk hadn't left his face.
That's when it settled in fully.
I was alone.