Chapter 14: Yerah

The morning sun streamed through the small bedroom window, casting golden streaks across the wooden floor. A gentle breeze swayed the sheer curtains, filling the space with the crisp scent of morning dew. Seven-year-old Yerah sat before a modest mirror, her tiny fingers carefully working through the knots in her dark hair. The brush snagged slightly, but she bit her lip and continued, determined to smooth it out. Outside, birds chirped in the distance, and the soft hum of a city waking up could be heard beyond the walls. It was a beautiful morning, one that should have felt warm, peaceful.

Ordo (beyond the door): There you go again being a bitch about shit!

Reila (beyond the door): Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking lazy pig, we’d afford shit!

The sound of a slap could be heard. What sounds to be Reila falls to the floor and cries.

Ordo: Take your daughter to fucking school!

Yerah behind the door could hear everything. Walking could be heard approaching her door. The door opens and Reila walks in, tears in her eyes. Yerah drops her comb.

Reila: Come here, sweetie. Let’s go to school.

Reila grabs Yerah’s hand and they walk out the door. They pass Ordo who has a frustrated expression, then finally leaving the house. Reila walked briskly, her grip firm yet trembling around Yerah’s small hand. Her other hand wiped away the stray tears. She kept her gaze forward, shoulders tense, swallowing back the sobs. Yerah, at her side, walked in silence, her expression blank. She didn’t ask if her mother was okay. There was no need. The weight of the morning already sat heavy on her small frame. Finally, they stop at a school for young children, Clyden Elementary. Reila releases Yerah’s little fingers.

Yerah: I love you, Mommy.

Reila breaks down, kneels to Yerah and hugs her.

Reila: I love you too sweetie.

Reila releases Yerah and walks back home. Yerah watches her mother leave for a moment and proceeds to campus. Yerah stepped through the school gates, the chatter of children and the rustling of backpacks filling the air. The warmth of the sun contrasted the lingering coldness inside her, but she forced herself to push forward. As she made her way toward the entrance, a familiar voice called out.

Carlene: Yerah! Over here!

Yerah turned to see Carlene, her friend, waving enthusiastically from the front steps. She had her usual bright smile, her curly brown hair bouncing as she hopped in place. Unlike Yerah, Carlene’s world seemed untouched by the heaviness that weighed on Yerah’s small shoulders. As Yerah approached, Carlene grabbed her by the wrist, swinging their arms slightly.

Carlene: You're late! I was about to send a search party for you!

Yerah didn’t answer right away. Instead, she managed a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Carlene: What’s wrong? You don’t look so happy to see me!

Yerah doesn’t answer.

Carlene: Did they fight again?

Yerah nodded as tears could be seen wanting to fall from her eyes. She quickly wiped them. Carlene hugged Yerah.

Carlene: It’s ok. You’re with me now!

Yerah still didn’t say a word. She simply nodded.

Carlene: Let’s go play!

Carlene grabbed Yerah’s hand, pulling her towards the nearest part of the playground. The schoolyard buzzed with the laughter and shouts of children, a world of carefree energy that Carlene eagerly pulled Yerah into. Hand in hand, they dashed toward the swings, their shoes kicking up bits of gravel as they ran. Carlene jumped onto a swing first, pumping her legs with enthusiasm, while Yerah hesitated before slowly following suit. As the swings carried them higher, Carlene let out an excited laugh, tilting her head back to feel the wind rush past her face. Yerah, for the first time that morning, allowed herself to smile just a little. After minutes of enjoying the swings, they both stopped and sat at a nearby bench.

Carlene: Everything’s going to be ok!

Yerah: Yeah…

Carlene: They always make up, right?

Yerah: Make up? Mommy didn’t put make up on today.

Carlene: Hahaha. No. Make up! Not the one you put on your face. The one where they say sorry to each other and are friends again.

Yerah: Oh… yeah. They will make up.

Carlene: That’s good!

A small silence.

Yerah: Do your mommy and daddy fight too?

Carlene: All the time! Mommy will say something about the messy house and then daddy will say something back. Then mommy will get bothered and daddy will make a funny joke and then they’ll laugh. They do it all the time!

Yerah smiled, but it was small, almost fragile. Carlene’s world was different. It was lighter and simpler. The way she described her parents’ fights sounded playful, harmless, like a routine they danced through before making things right again. Yerah understood, though. Her parents didn’t fight like that. They didn’t laugh afterward. But she was glad Carlene didn’t know that kind of fighting. She was glad her friend didn’t have to understand.

Carlene: My mom always tells me to find someone like my daddy. She’s so silly!

Yerah: I thought you said boys have cooties.

Carlene: They do! That’s why my mom is so silly!

Carlene points to a boy who appears to be slightly older. The boy seems to be making fire with his fingertips and making sparks with his Intergy, showing his friends what he can do.

Carlene: Not him though. He doesn’t have cooties.

Yerah: Who’s that?

Carlene: I don’t know, but he’s really cool!

Yerah smiles. The bell rings. The school day passed in a blur of lessons and routine, though Yerah found herself more focused on the ticking clock than the words on the board. She and Carlene sat together, passing quiet notes during arithmetic, doodling tiny stars and flowers in the margins of their papers. Lunchtime was a brief escape, the two of them sitting under the shade of a large oak tree, swinging their legs as they ate their meals. Carlene chattered on about the boy they saw earlier, but Yerah was only half-listening. Her mind drifted, weighed down by the thought of home.

Yerah sat on the front steps of the school, her small hands gripping the straps of her bag as she watched one child after another reunite with their parents. Carlene had already been picked up, waving cheerfully as she ran into her mother’s arms. The schoolyard, once filled with laughter and movement, had grown quiet. Only a few stragglers remained, the last children waiting, their eyes scanning the street with anticipation. Yerah’s gaze remained fixed on the road, waiting for her mother’s familiar figure to appear. But as the minutes stretched on, hope slowly drained from her. The sun dipped lower. Then, at last, a familiar face pulled up, Hima, her aunt.

Hima: Oh, baby.

Hima hugged Yerah.

Teacher: Are you picking her up, again? You’re her aunt, right?

Hima: Yes. An emergency happened at home.

Teacher: Oh ok. Everything alright?

Hima: I think so.

Teacher: Is it safe to assume you’ll just be picking her up mostly now?

Hima: That might be the case.

Teacher: Ok, that’s fine. Just asking.

Hima: Thank you for making sure she was safe!

Teacher: Yeah, no problem. See you both again whenever I see you again.

Hima held Yerah’s hand as they walked in silence, the fading warmth of the afternoon casting long shadows on the cracked pavement. The air felt thick with unspoken words, yet neither of them broke the stillness. Yerah’s small feet moved in rhythm with her aunt’s longer strides, the soft shuffle of their steps the only sound between them. She glanced up at Hima once, searching for some kind of reassurance, but her aunt’s face remained unreadable.

When they finally reached home, the house stood in eerie silence, the door creaking slightly as they stepped inside. Yerah’s eyes instinctively searched for her mother, but there was no sign of her. Instead, Ordo sat on the worn-out sofa, his face twisted in frustration, his fingers tapping impatiently against his knee and sighing heavily. His gaze barely lifted as Yerah stepped inside, but the tension in the room was suffocating. Hima exhaled quietly, rubbing Yerah’s back before taking her leave. The door clicked shut behind her, and Yerah stood frozen, then entering her quiet room. Hours passed and there was no sign of her mother. Finally, she stepped out of her room and approached her dad.

Yerah: Daddy? Where’s Mommy?

Ordo: Mommy is gone. Your mom left us.

Yerah a took a moment to think.

Yerah: Where did she go?

Ordo: She doesn’t want us anymore.

Yerah: What did she say?

Ordo: She didn’t say anything.

Yerah: Is she coming back?

Ordo: I don’t know.

Yerah: Is mommy staying with auntie Hima?

Ordo: Not now, Yerah. Don’t wanna deal with your dumb questions.

Yerah: Is it because you both were fighting?

Ordo: Yerah, I said not now!

Yerah: Is it because you keep hitting her?

Ordo smacked Yerah across the face. Yerah little body fell to the floor and she cried.

Ordo: I said not now, damn it! Go to your room!

Yerah slowly got up.

Yerah (crying): I’m sorry, Daddy.

She went to her room trying to contain her sobbing. The night stretched on in heavy silence, broken only by the occasional creak of the old house settling. Yerah lay curled up beneath her thin blanket, her small frame trembling beneath the weight of everything she didn’t understand. Her cheek still burned where Ordo had struck her, the dull ache lingering as a cruel reminder. Her stomach growled softly, but she ignored it. There was no dinner waiting, no comforting presence to soothe her hunger or her fears. The house felt hollow. Even the air seemed colder, emptier. She listened to the muffled sounds of her father moving in the other room, heavy footsteps pacing aimlessly before settling into stillness. And then, nothing. Just the vast, aching quiet of a home that no longer felt like home.

Eight years later. Morning light filtered through the unfamiliar window, casting a soft glow across the neatly arranged room. It was different from the one she grew up in. It was cleaner, quieter, lacking the echoes of arguments and broken glass. Yerah sat in front of a small mirror, running a comb through her long, dark hair, the rhythmic strokes steady, practiced. The walls around her held no memories. This was Uncle Kino’s and Auntie Hima’s house. It was a peaceful morning, a beautiful one even. Her door was slightly cracked open.

Kino (beyond the door): Did she leave for school yet?

Hima (beyond the door): Yeah, I think I saw her leave already. Why?

Kino: Babe, she needs to get a part-time job or something.

Hima: No, she needs to focus on school so she can get a good job in the future.

Kino: We can only keep feeding her for so long.

Hima: We have plenty.

Kino: Easy for you to say. You don’t work. Neither of you do.

Hima: Oh, you want me to get a job?

Kino: No. I’m just saying she should. Yerah is going to be an adult soon, and she needs to know how bills work.

Hima: Babe, let her focus on school. Then when she’s old enough, she can figure her stuff out.

Kino: We already have a son and daughter to care for.

Hima: So, you’re saying to just kick her out?

Kino: No. Stop with these scenarios I never suggested! I’m just saying she can start contributing to the house now. She’s not our child! She’s not our responsibility!

Hima: Kino!

Kino: What!? You brought her into this house years ago without even checking with me. And it’s been so many years! Our kids can’t even have their own bedrooms because she’s here. I get that she’s your brother’s daughter and that you love her, but like I said, she’s really not ours to deal with.

Hima: Well, she’s here now.

Kino: Yeah, and she wouldn’t be if Reila wasn’t whoring around!

Hima: Kino! What’s gotten into you this morning!

Kino: Our bills! That’s what got into me this morning!

Hima: We’ll figure it out.

Kino: You mean to say that I will figure this out. I always do! And Yerah’s not even my kid! Tell Ordo to be a man and care for his damn child!

Hima: Kino, babe. I’ll get a job then.

Kino sighs.

Kino: That’s not what I want for you, honey. I want you to be home to take care of the house. Pick up the kids from school. Help them with their homework. Having a job isn’t your problem. It should be Yerah’s. If not, then Ordo’s. If not, then Reila!

Hima: Reila’s been gone for so long. Yeah, let me just find her real quick and tell her to be a mother, because that makes sense, right?

Kino: Or you can just tell your brother to do his job and be a father.

Hima: You know we can’t get on his bad side. I’m not ready for more family drama.

Kino: Damn it…

Hima: I get where you’re coming from though. Yes, Yerah technically isn’t our child. It’s just for a few more years, Kino. Wait until she—

The front door could be heard opening and shutting. Kino and Hima looked at each other confused. They realized it was Yerah leaving the house. Kino sighs angrily.

Hima: Crap.

Kino: I thought you said she already left!

Hima: I could’ve sworn she was gone already!

Kino: Great…

Hima: I hope she didn’t hear all of this.

Kino: Does it matter, anyways! I still have these bills to pay!

Yerah walked the familiar streets of Clyden, her vision blurred by tears, the weight of the morning pressing against her heart. Her steps were quick trying to outrun the feeling of being unwanted. The sting of Kino’s words and the exhaustion in Hima’s voice clung to her, wrapping around her mind like invisible chains. She wiped at her eyes with her hand, just as she reached the front gates of Clyden High, trying to compose herself before stepping onto campus. But Carlene saw her instantly. Even after all these years, Carlene could always tell. Standing by the entrance, her arms crossed, she raised an eyebrow as Yerah approached. Without a word, she sighed, uncrossed her arms, and pulled Yerah into a tight hug.

Carlene: Bad morning?

Yerah let out a shaky breath, nodding against her shoulder. Carlene just held her there, letting her breathe, letting her exist. Moments passed. The two sat beneath the gazebo in the school courtyard, the shade offering a quiet refuge from the morning sun. A soft breeze rustled the trees nearby, carrying the distant chatter of students, but at their table, there was only silence. Carlene tapped her fingers against the wooden surface, glancing at Yerah, who stared down at her hands, lost in thought.

Carlene: That’s messed up. Your uncle really said that?

Yerah nodded.

Carlene: And your aunt started to agree with him at the end?

Yerah: Yeah…

Carlene: I’m so sorry, girl. You don’t deserve any of that.

Silence.

Carlene: So, what now?

Yerah: I’m going to leave that house soon.

Carlene: You gonna tell your aunt and uncle at least?

Yerah: No. They’ll see me gone one day and figure out what happened. They’ll probably even celebrate.

Carlene: Don’t say that. They’re going to miss you. You’ll worry them.

Yerah: Sure. Whatever.

Carlene: Really, though. They’re going to panic. What are you going to do if anyone asks about you and your family?

Yerah: I’m just going to tell others some random story. I dunno. Maybe my parents died. Or maybe war got to them. I’ll make something up. As for my aunt and uncle, I’ll just say something like I live with them even though I don’t.

Carlene: I don’t like it… but I get it.

Carlene gives a look of disappointment. She doesn’t agree, but she can’t argue. Minutes pass.

Carlene: So, I hate to bring even more bad news…

Yerah: Hm?

Carlene sighed.

Carlene: I’m moving next month.

Yerah: What?

Carlene nodded in disappointment.

Carlene: But don’t worry, girl. I’ll come visit.

Yerah: Where to?

Carlene: My parents are going to run their business in Yumitra.

Yerah doesn’t say anything. She’s even more upset.

Carlene: Of course, I have to go with them.

Yerah: I know… You said next month?

Carlene (nodding): Mmm-hmm.

Yerah: All this bad news. All so sudden.

Carlene: I know. I’m so sorry, girl. I had to let you know at some point though. I was going to tell you last week, but we were having so much fun, I didn’t want to ruin it.

Yerah: Ah, so you save it til now when things are already bad.

Carlene: Tsk. Yerah! You know I don’t—

Yerah: I’m messing with you.

Carlene: You better be.

Yerah: I am.

Minutes of silence. The two sit there, thinking.

Carlene: This is going to sound funny, but you know what you need?

Yerah: Hm?

Carlene: You need to find yourself a man who will treat you right.

Yerah rolled her eyes.

Yerah: Not this again.

Carlene: I’m so serious, girl. Get yourself a nice, cute guy who will give you all the love you deserve.

Yerah: Yeah, because those totally exist for me.

Carlene: Oh, but they do! I have a boyfriend who loves me!

Yerah: Horay. Lucky you! You have people who love you!

Carlene: Tsk. Girl, you know I ain’t mean it like that.

Yerah: I know.

Carlene: Fall in love for once! You deserve it!

Yerah: You know I think love is gross.

Carlene: Yeah, yeah. You say that, but I know deep down, you have so much love to give.

Yerah doesn’t reply.

Carlene: Why don’t you though? Seriously. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re talented. You’re kind. You’re—

Yerah: Ok, ok. I’ve heard this so many times.

Carlene: So, why don’t you then? Any guy would be lucky to have you.

Silence.

Yerah: I don’t want to be thrown away again.

Carlene: Oh, Yerah…

Yerah: I’m serious.

Carlene gives a slight frown to Yerah.

Yerah: You want to finally hear it? There you go.

Carlene listens.

Yerah: I was thrown away by my mother and father. Not one of them. Both of them! The two people who should’ve loved me could care less how I’m doing today.

Carlene sighs.

Yerah: And just when I think I’ve found a new home, I find out I’m not loved. My aunt and uncle don’t love me… They tolerate me.

Carlene sheds a few tears.

Yerah: So, why find love when family can’t even love me?

Carlene sniffles.

Yerah: Why find love… when I can’t even love myself?

Carlene cries.

Carlene: Oh, Yerah…

She reaches out, first hesitating, then moving forward and hugs Yerah.

Carlene: Listen to me. One day, you’ll find someone who loves you, even if you don’t believe you deserve it. It doesn’t matter if you think you deserve it or not. The matter of fact is, you are worthy of love, you hear me?

Yerah tears up.

Carlene: I wish I could bring you with me. I wish I didn’t have to leave. I wish I could be there to see you find love. But it’ll happen ok? And I’ll visit as much as I can. Whatever happens, you gotta believe, understand?

Yerah nods. Carlene hugs her again.

Carlene: Damn it. You got me crying with you again.

Yerah: Hahaha. Sorry!

Carlene reaches out and wipes Yerah’s tears from her cheeks.

Carlene: And make sure you write down notes of important things that happen in your life. That way, whenever I visit, you can tell me all about it. I’ll do the same for you too.

Yerah nods again.

Yerah: I’m going to miss you so much.

Carlene: Me too.

Silence.

Yerah: I love you, so much, sis.

Carlene: I love you too, sister.

Carlene reaches out for one last hug. The school bell rang in the distance, marking the start of another day, Yerah and Carlene remained beneath the gazebo, lingering in the space between childhood and an uncertain future. The warm breeze carried the scent of the earth, rustling the leaves overhead as if whispering secrets only they could hear. Yerah held onto Carlene’s warmth for a second longer, engraving it into memory because soon, it would just be a memory.

Present time. The grand doors of the palace in Troita creaked open, the golden morning light spilling across the marble floor as Yerah stepped outside. The cool air brushed against her skin, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and lingering embers from the night before. Her steps were steady, but her heart felt heavier than usual. Ahead, the crew stood waiting near the carts, adjusting their gear as they prepared for the journey ahead. Makota tightened the straps of a pack, Shera by him, and Ira stood silently beside Zarnem, her expression unreadable. Her eyes fell to the ground as she adjusted the strap of her bag, brushing past the moment before it could settle into something deeper. The carts creaked under the weight of their supplies, the horses stirring restlessly as Zarnem gave a short nod. And with that, they were ready to leave behind Troita.