With You, I Began

Chapter 1: Just Moana

The bell had rung five minutes ago, but Moana was in no hurry to leave. She slouched in her seat at the back of the classroom, her finger tracing absent shapes on the desk. Outside, the shouts and laughter of her classmates bounced off the school’s faded walls, but none of those sounds were for her. They never were.

“Moana, you heading out?” asked Mr. Chowdhury, the History teacher, glancing back as he packed his old leather briefcase.

“Nah, sir, just...thinking,” she mumbled, her eyes still fixed on her desk.

“Alright, Moana. Just don’t think too much.” He shot her a soft smile and walked out, leaving her alone with silence and her thoughts—a familiar pair.

Just Moana. That’s what she felt like—no fanfare, no people to call “hers.” She had a family, sure, and friends—well, a few people she knew, anyway. But none of it felt real. She wasn’t like the girls in her family who got endless praise for their academic records, their extra-curriculars, and their million friends. Her cousin, Riya, for example, the family’s golden child, with her Instagram-perfect life and endless group chats that would flood her phone with heart emojis and plans for the weekend. Riya was…someone.

Moana was just…Moana.

---

At home, the same routine waited. As soon as Moana stepped inside, her mother’s voice cut through the silence, quick and sharp.

“Where were you?” Her mother’s words dripped with impatience, not even a hint of curiosity. “Riya’s results came in today—you should see how well she did! Top marks in every subject, and always surrounded by friends. I wish you’d take a little inspiration from her.”

Moana felt the familiar pang, but today it cut deeper. Today was her result day, too. And for the first time, she had something to be proud of—she’d gotten first rank. But instead of even asking about her, her mom was busy praising her cousin, assuming Moana had fallen short, as usual. The irony of it felt bitter, like salt on an open wound.

“Yeah, Mom,” she mumbled through clenched teeth. “Riya’s amazing. Clearly, we can all just...try to be her.”

But her mother had already moved on, talking about family gatherings, school comparisons, all the things Moana had no patience for. Moana’s hands tightened around the strap of her bag, her face blank, masking the frustration boiling inside. Without another word, she turned and stormed off to her room, closing the door with a soft click that held back a thousand unsaid words.
She dropped her bag by the bed and fell back onto her pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Her room was filled with books she’d collected over the years—escape routes to other lives, other worlds. In one of those worlds, maybe she’d be more than “just Moana.”

---

As the night crept in, Moana finally pulled out her diary.

> Dear Diary,
You’d think by now, I’d have more to say. You’d think I’d be used to it—the silence, the endless comparisons, the feeling that I’m the shadow in everyone else’s spotlight. Maybe one day, I’ll be seen. Until then, here I am: Moana. Still me, still waiting for something...more.

She closed the book, her thoughts still buzzing, heavier than the night that pressed against her window.

Maybe tomorrow would be different. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, she’d get up, go to school, sit alone, and wait to see if her life decided to change.

For now, she was just Moana.

---