This chapter is dedicated to all of you, my lovely readers (xoxo). I hope you enjoy reading it. 🧸🎀

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P.S. [Feel free to play the song to get a sense of what Avantika was feeling during her drive home. 🎶🚗⛅🌇]

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I stepped out of the principal's office, my father walking beside me, the cruel sunlight striking my face. The principal's voice still echoed in my head, stern and loud, as if it was following me out. What used to be a place of authority now felt cold, like it had rejected me somehow. I squinted against the blazing sun, my emotions tangled up—disappointment, frustration, something I couldn't quite name. What did I expect to feel? Relief? Maybe... or maybe just less of this suffocating weight.

"Are you okay, Avantika?" My father's voice snapped me from my reverie. There was something in his tone that sounded deep worry. I stared at him but could not speak. How can I tell him how I feel? That was when I recalled the weight of the gruesome news I had just received - my expulsion from my 'all-girls public school'. The suddenness of it all had left us both disoriented and anxious.

The ride back home was filled with silence. Looking out the window I noticed everything and at the same time, nothing as my mind was gallivanting. Roads full of vehicles, cars honking away became a haze as I brought out my earphones and pressed play on my Spotify. I had to block the overwhelming noise in me, so I raised the volume while tenderly opening my ears to "What Was I Made For?"

The song's dreamy, distant notes matched my mood perfectly, providing a momentary escape from my thoughts. This was exactly what I needed right now: an escape.

Music has always been my easy escape. Each note of the song felt like it was feathered through my bare skin.

When we arrived home, the sun was sinking low, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. As soon as we walked through the door, my mother's worried expression greeted us. She walked around the kitchen and was setting the table with a frown on her face. As she bustled around the kitchen, the smells of rice and palak paneer combined with that of curd made fresh that morning wafted through the air.

"Home at last," she said, attempting to hide her anxiousness under a veil of false cheerfulness. "I've prepared lunch. Please, take a seat."

My father offered a weary grin to her before occupying a chair at the dinner table. "Thank you, honey. We had a long day."

I joined them at the table only to feel the weight of the day's occurrences pressing down on me. This feels unbearable. The lunch remained uncomfortably quiet; there were so many things that went unspoken. The scraping of plates and the soft chatter of voices did nothing to help clear the tense environment. My mother dished out the rice, palak paneer, and curd with ease, to which she had been long accustomed, but her gestures were sharp and a bit of nervous energy. I nibbled on my meal as I struggled with admittance and anger.

The lunch felt quieter, the silence more pronounced. Nobody uttered a single word.

Finally, after lunch I got the excuse to go to my room. The space which felt like my own retreat boot. Its walls were painted in a mix of light purple with one painted in a deep shade of blue. Mounted on that darker wall was a large, elegant cork board filled with colorful sticky notes, photos, and reminders—a personal vision board where I organized my thoughts, to-dos, and goals.

The fairy lights twirled around the bedrest, casting a gentle, inviting glow that made the room feel warm and cozy. A beautiful vintage rug which I got from a thrift store lay on the floor, its intricate patterns adding character to my room. Potted green plants added some life while a large window that was covered by white and lavender colored curtains provided soft light that was just enough and blush colored the entire room.

This is my retreat. I inhaled deeply and allowed an air of comfort to fill the room. Despite the chaos happening outside, this room remains a haven where I can compose myself. The soft glow from the fairy lights and the refreshing feeling from the cool breeze swaying the curtains offered comfort in the middle of the chaos.

The serene tranquility of my room was shattered by the sharp ring of the doorbell. With a reluctant sigh, I practically had to pull myself out of the comfortable cocoon of blankets and cushions that I created to escape the momentary reality and headed to the door. Mr. Sharma stood at the door, our elderly neighbor with his kind, weathered face that always seemed to carry a gentle warmth. My dad greeted him with his trademark smile, while my mom, ever the perfect host, was already hurrying to the kitchen to make him some tea.

I hung back, quietly observing, as Mr. Sharma began talking about his son, Abhimanyu. "He's studying like there's no tomorrow," he said, his voice full of emphasis. "He's got his heart set on Blackthorn Academy." It's such a prestigious place, and he is giving it his all to gain admission."

The title Blackthorn Academy was familiar to me, it was almost engrained in everyone's mind as associated with cut throat competition and the kind of money most people dream of. But I hadn't realized they offered a full-ride scholarship each year. The thought of that place, with its elite status and luxurious campus, felt both intimidating and strangely captivating. Maybe this is my chance to give this place a chance...

"If you're interested," Mr. Sharma added, "you should think about applying for the scholarship too. It's a life-changing opportunity."

His words ignited a spark of hope in me. What if this could be my chance to break free, to start anew? The contemplation of filling the application for the scholarship exam was both nauseating and strangely thrilling to think about. It was a way to let go of the past that felt like chains around my ankles.

After Mr. Sharma left, a wave of resolve washed over me. My room had always been my safe space, but now it felt like more than that—it was a place to ponder my next steps. Blackthorn Academy... could it really be my way out? The thought of that place, with all its promise of a fresh start, stood out like a beacon of hope amid the chaos.

Turning in my chair, I surveyed my room, a sense of purpose bubbling to the surface. "Blackthorn Academy, here I come," I murmured to myself, anticipation stirring within me for the challenges and new beginnings that awaited.

A u t h o r's   N o t e 

Phew! I just published the first chapter, and I'm totally dancing inside my head! 🤭

I hope you enjoy the writing, the vibes, and meeting Avantika Khanna. 

Drop a VOMMENT ❤️ (vote + comment) and let me know what you think—did you love her room as much as I do?

Thanks for joining me on this rollercoaster, and happy reading!

P.S. Do you ever listen to melancholic tunes to escape reality, or is that just my personal soundtrack? 🌌🎧