A hidden Pain

AVA'S POV :

The morning sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting a faint glow on Ava’s tear-streaked face. She stirred awake, her fingers still clutching an old, crumpled photograph—one that held memories of a time when everything was perfect, when her family was whole.

Her head throbbed, a dull ache from the tears she had shed the night before. She sat up slowly, rubbing her temples, and glanced toward the other side of the room. Her mother was still asleep, her face turned away, lost in her own sorrow. Ava’s heart sank at the sight. She knew her mother barely slept these days.

Turning her gaze toward the living room, she saw her father sprawled across the sofa, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression blank even in sleep. He hadn't been in their bedroom for months now. The growing distance between her parents felt like an unbridgeable chasm, one that no amount of hope could fill.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she muttered under her breath, Oh God… how much longer will this go on? Will they spend their entire lives like this? Please… do something.

Shaking her head, she pushed herself off the bed, determined not to let her emotions consume her. She needed to start the day, even if it felt like a never-ending cycle of pain hidden behind forced smiles.

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*TO KITCHEN*

Dragging herself to the kitchen, she opened the fridge, only to be greeted by emptiness. No milk. No eggs. The shelves looked as hollow as she felt inside.

Great… Just another thing to add to my list of problems, she thought bitterly.

Without wasting time, she grabbed a jacket, slipped on her shoes, and stepped outside. The fresh morning air hit her face, momentarily washing away the heaviness in her chest. She straightened her shoulders, plastering on a cheerful expression—one she had perfected over time.

Ava had become an expert at hiding her pain. To the world, she was the girl who always had a smile, the one who laughed the loudest and spread joy effortlessly. But deep down, her heart was heavy, weighed down by the turmoil at home.

The short walk to the grocery store felt longer than usual. With every step, her mind wandered back to the arguments, the silence, the way her mother barely spoke anymore, and how her father’s eyes had lost their warmth.

Would things ever change? Or was this her new reality forever?



*At the Grocery Store*



Pushing her thoughts aside, she reached the small grocery store at the corner of the street. The familiar bell above the door jingled as she stepped in, and she was immediately greeted by the friendly old shopkeeper.

“Ah, Ava! Good morning!” the elderly man said with a warm smile.

Ava returned the greeting with her usual bright expression. “Good morning, Uncle! Could you give me a packet of milk, please?”

“Of course, dear. Just a moment.”

As she waited, she glanced around the tiny shop. Shelves lined with packets of biscuits, colorful candies, and neatly stacked vegetables brought a strange sense of comfort. This store had been here for as long as she could remember—a constant in her ever-changing life.

The shopkeeper handed her the milk packet, his eyes kind. “Here you go, child. How is your mother doing?”

Ava hesitated for a split second before forcing another smile. “She’s fine, Uncle. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

The old man nodded knowingly but didn’t push further. “Take care of her, Ava. And take care of yourself too.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “I will. Thank you, Uncle!”

With that, she paid for the milk, clutched the packet tightly, and stepped outside.

Walking Back Home*

As she walked back, the facade of happiness began to crack again. The weight of reality pressed down on her shoulders, but she had no choice but to keep moving forward. She had to be strong—not just for herself, but for her mother, for her family.

Looking up at the sky, she whispered a silent plea.

God, I don’t need much… Just a little peace. A little happiness. Not for me, but for them.

Taking a deep breath, she wiped away the single tear that had escaped and quickened her pace. No matter how broken things felt, she had to keep going.

Because that’s what she had always done.

Dear readers,

Children who grow up witnessing their parents' fights often carry unseen wounds in their hearts. The loud voices, the tense silences, and the lingering sadness in their home become a weight too heavy for young shoulders to bear. They may smile outside, pretending everything is fine, but deep down, they feel lonely, confused, and sometimes even responsible for things beyond their control. Their home, which should be a place of comfort and love, becomes a space filled with uncertainty.

But to those children who feel trapped in the storm of their parents’ conflicts, know this—you are not alone. None of this is your fault, and you are not responsible for fixing what is broken between them. You are strong, even on the days when you feel weak. The sadness you feel today will not last forever, and brighter days are ahead. Hold on to the little moments of joy, the friendships that make you smile, and the dreams that give you hope. You are loved, you are important, and no matter how difficult things seem right now, your heart will heal, and happiness will find its way to you. Keep going—there is so much more waiting for you beyond this pain.