The slap came before the tears.
A sharp, stinging sound cut through the air, louder than the fan creaking above, louder than the paper in Mala's small hand, now crumpled and trembling.
She didn't flinch.Not because it didn't hurt but because she knew she deserved it.Or at least… they made her believe she did.
"Fifty marks, Mala? FIFTY!" her mother screamed, her voice slicing like broken glass.The report card slipped from her grip and floated to the floor, the word "1st Position" written in bold red ink.Nobody saw it.Nobody cared.
Mala's mother didn't see the gold star.Didn't see the "Outstanding!" scribbled in blue ink by the teacher.Didn't even ask if she was happy.
All she saw was that it wasn't perfect.
All she saw was that Sana! the oh-so-perfect daughter of her younger sister, scored full marks.Again.Sana, the golden child who got kisses for tests.While Mala got hunger.
"You want me to clap for this?" her mother spat, waving the air like it stank. "Eat? After bringing this trash home? No food today. Not one bite. Learn what failure tastes like."
Mala just stood there.Five years old.In a peach school frock.A loose shoelace dragging on the floor.Her eyes locked on the cracked tiles beneath her, counting the lines because crying would only earn her another slap.
Somewhere in the back, her baby brother giggled, unaware of storms.The TV blared some drama in the living room.And in the kitchen, rice steamed on the stove.
But not for her.
Her stomach growled.Her throat tightened.She didn't ask for forgiveness.Didn't beg.Didn't explain that fifty marks didn't matter, because she still came first.She'd already learned truth doesn't matter in houses where comparison lives.
She picked up the report card slowly, folded it four times, and tucked it into her shoe.
Not her pocket.Her shoe.
Because that's where her victories belonged in this house beneath her feet.
That night, as hunger gnawed at her belly, Mala whispered one sentence into the darkness:"One day… you'll all regret not clapping."
And the stars outside blinked like they heard her.
After crying she went to sleep..... but the hunger make her get fever next day.
The fever came quietly.
Not the kind with dramatic fainting or loud coughing just heat curling under her skin like coals hidden in cotton.Her head throbbed.Her body shivered.But she didn't cry. Not anymore.
Mala lay curled on the edge of her thin mattress, her schoolbag still half-open beside her. Her uniform was crumpled at the foot of the bed, untouched since yesterday's slap.
Her report card, still folded inside her shoe, whispered like a secret no one cared to read.
The bedroom door creaked open.Footsteps. Heels. Her mother.
Mala's heart fluttered. Maybe she noticed. Maybe
"Get up, Mala."Sharp voice. No warmth. No check-in. No "how are you feeling?"Just orders. Always orders.
"I'm going to Sana's birthday. Your Nani's coming too. Don't make a mess while I'm gone."
Mala blinked up at her mother, vision blurring.
"I have fever," she whispered.
"Then sleep," her mother snapped, adjusting her bangles in the mirror. "Maybe next time you'll score better."
Her mother's lipstick was cherry red today.Her hair straightened.Perfume hung thick in the air like lies.She looked radiant. Happy.
All for Sana.
Sana, the sunshine child.The girl with straight A's, glittery dresses, and a room full of balloons.The one who never got slapped.The one who always got cake.
"Can I come?" Mala croaked.
Her mother didn't even look at her."You'll embarrass me like this. Stay in bed. You're not invited anyway."
Then the door slammed.And the silence came back.Heavier this time.
Mala didn't cry. She couldn't afford the luxury of tears.She rolled over, hugging her own arms for warmth.
Through the cracked window, she heard the car start.Heard the laughter.Heard the music when they reached Sana's house.
She closed her eyes and imagined herself there, just for a second, holding a balloon, smiling, maybe someone saying, "Oh look, Mala came too!"
But in her world, imaginary hugs didn't warm your skin.Imaginary cakes didn't stop your hunger.Imaginary families didn't love you back.
So she whispered the same line again the one she said last night, with more fever this time, but even more fire:
"One day… you'll all wish you sat beside me when I was burning."
And the fever didn't break.But something inside her did.
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The car was gone.The house was quiet, almost cruel in how peaceful it pretended to be.
Mala lay in her bed, burning. Not just from the fever, but from the ache of being forgotten again.The silence wasn't new. But today, it felt personal.Like even the walls had turned their backs.
Until tap… tap…The sound of a walking stick against the marble floor. Slow. Familiar. Steady.
Dadi.
Her only softness in this sharp-edged house.The only person who ever looked at Mala like she was more than a burden.
The door creaked open, slower than before.Mala didn't move, she didn't have to.Her body knew that rhythm. Her heart eased without permission.
Dadi stepped in, wearing her soft white dupatta, a small bowl in one hand, and a quiet fire in her eyes.She looked at Mala and paused, like the sight of her, small and burning and alone, broke something inside her.
"Oh my bitiya..."Her voice cracked.
She set the bowl down, lukewarm khichdi, still steaming. She ran her fingers over Mala's forehead.Too hot.Too dry.Too abandoned.
"Didn't your maa check your fever?" Dadi asked, already knowing the answer.
Mala blinked slowly.She wanted to speak, but her throat felt like it was made of thorns.
Dadi sighed, brushing back the messy strands stuck to Mala's temples.
"She left for Sana's party," Mala whispered, barely audible.
Dadi stilled for a second. Then shook her head with a bitter smile."Of course she did."
She fed Mala tiny spoonful's of khichdi, blowing on each bite like she used to when Mala was little-little.And for a few minutes, Mala forgot she was unloved.Forgot the slap.Forgot Sana's birthday.
Because here, in her Dadi's eyes, she wasn't broken.She was whole.Seen.A little star with a fever and a bruised heart.
"You know what I told Allah last night?" Dadi whispered, tucking Mala's blanket under her chin.
"What?"
"I said, 'Protect this girl. One day, the whole world will know her name.'"She smiled. "And you know what else I believe?"
Mala looked up, weak but curious.
"That you'll shine so bright, beta, the same people who left you cold… will beg just to feel your warmth."
Mala didn't respond.Didn't have the strength.But that night, when she finally fell asleep in Dadi's lap, her dreams were different.
No more empty rooms.No more parties she wasn't invited to.
In her dreams, she stood on a stage.Flashlights. A crowd. Applause.And in the front row, Dadi. Clapping the loud.
Mala had eaten just enough to stop the shaking.Now she lay curled in Dadi's lap, her tiny hand clutching a corner of her dupatta like it was her lifeline.
The room was dim, only the filtered evening light slipping through the curtain cracks. The kind of light that made shadows longer. Questions heavier.
And then, softly Her voice came out.Broken. Small. Shaky.
"Dadi… I just got fifty marks less… and she slapped me."
Dadi's hand stilled in her hair.
"I didn't even fail. I came first. But she… she didn't even look at it. Like it didn't matter."
A pause. A breath that hurt to take.
"Sometimes I think…"
"I'm not her daughter."
Silence.
Not because Dadi didn't have words, but because she was trying to hold back the ones that would burn the room down.
"Misha, Adil, Aman, Nora… they all get hugs. And food. And birthdays. But me? I just… I don't get it. What did I do so wrong to be born?"
Her voice cracked then.She didn't cry loud, Mala never did.Her tears slipped out quiet, rebellious, like the girl herself.
"Am I that bad, Dadi?"
Dadi's arms tightened around her like a shield. She leaned down, her forehead pressing gently against Mala's burning one.
"No, meri jaan," she whispered, voice thick with emotion. "You are not bad. You are brave."
She cupped Mala's face, thumb wiping away a tear with the gentleness this world had denied her.
"The problem is… you were born too bright in a house full of people who can't handle the sun. That's not your fault. That's their blindness."
Mala looked up, eyes wide, holding onto every word like they were magic spells.
"You're a diamond, Mala. Black and rare. They don't know how to hold you… so they try to crush you."
"But remember this, diamonds don't break.""They cut."
Dadi kissed her forehead, right between the brows.
"One day, they'll see what they lost. But by then, you'll be too far to hear their sorry."
Mala didn't speak again.She just buried her face in Dadi's shawl, inhaling that soft, warm scent that smelled like home, the only home she'd ever known.
And outside, the sun began to set.Not in defeat But like a queen who chooses to disappear…only to rise again.