Let Me Live My Seventeen

After that the ride to the hospital was quiet. Too quiet.

Aera sat in the backseat, her head leaning against the window as the morning sun flickered through the trees. Her mom kept fidgeting with her bag while her dad drove, his eyes never once meeting the rear view mirror to look at her.

When they reached the hospital, they took a seat outside the doctor's cabin, waiting for their turn. The air smelled like antiseptic and sadness. Her mom kept glancing around, as if embarrassed to be seen in a hospital. Her dad just stared at the floor tiles, still and cold.

The nurse finally called her name. They stepped in.

The doctor greeted them with a soft nod, eyes scanning through her reports.

"We'll need to do an MRI scan today," he said. "And bloodwork. Some hormonal panels too. We need to keep track of the tumor's progression."

Aera gave a small nod. She didn't want to ask questions. What good would it do?

Halfway through the conversation, her head began to throb again. She blinked rapidly, her vision starting to blur, and then, warmth.

Her nose.

"Mom," she whispered, holding it.

Her mother gasped, reaching into her purse. The doctor immediately called for a nurse. They helped her to a nearby bed, where she lay down as the nurse injected something into her arm. The pain dulled a little, but the exhaustion didn't.

"She shouldn't be attending school in this condition," the doctor said seriously. "Staying at home would be better. Less stress, more rest."

Her mom looked like she was about to jump up and say "I told you so."

But Aera, lying on the hospital bed with pale lips and messy hair, turned her face slightly and muttered, "No. I won't drop out."

Her voice wasn't loud but the conviction in it made both her parents go silent.

Back at home, dinner was barely a few bites. Her dad went to the bedroom early. Her mom sat on the couch, pretending to scroll through her phone, glancing at her every few seconds with eyes full of frustration and worry.

Later that night, while the world outside was quiet, the war began again.

"You never listen," her mom snapped. "She's too stubborn for her own good!"

"She's seventeen, not a toddler," her father's voice was stern but calm. "If she wants to go to school, let her go."

"She'll suffer more!"

"Then she'll face it herself. She's not a kid anymore, stop treating her like one!"

Aera heard every word from behind her bedroom door. She didn't move. Didn't cry right away either.

But once she turned off the lights and slipped into bed, the tears came silently. Her pillow caught them all. No one else needed to.

The next morning, she got ready in silence. Her mother stood near the dining table, arms folded, glaring. No "good morning," no "take care."

Aera just grabbed a bun, forced a few bites, and left.

On the bus, the world moved as usual. People around her, laughed, gossiped, texted. But she sat there alone, her fingers clutched tightly around the bus rail.

Back to school.

Back to that mysterious deskmate who made her heart confused.

And back to pretending everything was okay.