Crumbled Minds

It was quiet. Too quiet.

There was something about the silence that felt... strange, like it didn’t belong. The shadows seemed to stretch longer than they should have, creeping across the floor in ways that didn’t make sense.

The room felt too big. Too empty.

A soft, almost unnoticeable hum filled the space, but it didn’t come from anywhere. It was as though the air itself was speaking, but no words could be heard. Only the silence.

The bed felt too soft. The walls were too still. The room, once so familiar, now seemed like a strange place. Something was missing. Something was wrong.

But no one moved. No one spoke.

The door creaked open. Footsteps—slow and soft—crossed the room. A hand placed a glass of warm milk on the bedside table, but it didn’t break the silence.

The stillness lingered.

A voice, small and hesitant, finally broke through.

"Am I stupid?"

The question hung in the air, sharp and fragile, like a breath held too long.

The silence that followed seemed even louder than before.

"What? Why would you say that?" The voice was gentle, yet filled with surprise, as if it couldn’t believe what it had just heard.

Still, the figure on the bed didn’t move. Their eyes were fixed on the floor, not meeting the one who spoke.

"Because… today, I got the answer wrong in class. I said the wrong answer to the teacher’s question, and everyone laughed. Even Amaan, my friend. And Sir, he… he smiled like I was a joke. I felt so small, Mama. I felt like I wasn’t even there. Like I wasn’t enough."

The words fell, heavy and soft, filling the room with their pain. For a moment, no one moved. The weight of the words seemed to hang in the air, holding them both still.

"You are not stupid. You’re not. Don’t you ever think that." The voice softened, and the figure on the bed was gently pulled into an embrace, a warm, comforting hold. "But tell me… why do you think that one mistake means you’re not enough?"

The figure didn’t answer. They only shook their head slowly, their hands gripping the blanket tightly. The weight of the question felt heavy, too heavy to answer.

"Because… I don’t know. It just felt like when I made that mistake, everything else went wrong. Like I’m always going to mess up. Like nothing I do will ever be good enough."

Her heart broke a little more. She held them tighter.

"Listen to me, darling. Little minds, like yours, break easily because they don’t know the whole truth yet."

The figure looked up, confused. "What truth?"

She smiled softly, brushing their hair back, trying to steady her own breath. "The truth that mistakes don’t define you. They don’t make you less. They just mean you’re learning. And when you learn, it means you’re growing."

"But it still hurts. It hurts so much." The words came out in a soft whisper, filled with the sting of something raw.

"I know, love. I know. Pain always hurts. But pain doesn’t last forever. Pain tells you that something inside is changing. When it hurts, it’s a sign that something new is being born in you."

The figure wiped their eyes, the tears still there, but there was something softer in their expression now. "But why do I feel so small, Mama? Why does it feel like I’ll never be good at anything?"

She held them closer, letting the warmth of her embrace seep into them. "Because, my love, you’re still growing. And that’s okay. You don’t have to be perfect right now. You just have to keep trying. And with each try, you’ll get stronger. You’ll get braver. And one day, you’ll see that all those little mistakes are what helped you grow into someone amazing."

The figure was silent, but now there was something different in their eyes—something that hadn’t been there before. A tiny spark of hope.

"Do you think I’ll grow like that? Like a tree?"

She smiled, brushing a tear from her own cheek. "Yes, I do. Big trees don’t grow tall in one day, love. They start small. They grow slowly, sometimes through storms, sometimes through hard ground. But eventually, they grow strong and stand tall. And you, my darling, are just like that tree. You may feel small now, but you’re growing stronger every day."

The figure smiled softly, a small light returning to their eyes. They no longer felt like they were made of paper, fragile and weak. There was a sense of possibility, however small, starting to bloom inside them.

"Will you stay with me tonight, Mama?"

Her heart swelled. She pulled the blanket over both of them, wrapping them both in the warmth of love. "I’ll always stay, my love. I’m always here. And I will always help you grow."