Chapter 5: The Days Start Moving
Morning came again.
Just like yesterday.
And the day before.
But something about this morning felt… calmer. Not happier, not lighter. Just calmer. Like his heart was slowly learning how to breathe in this new place.
He woke up early again, before anyone knocked. Before the sound of shoes on the stairs. Before breakfast smells reached his door.
He sat on his bed for a while, not rushing to stand. Just sitting there, looking at the small window, at the slice of sky peeking through the buildings.
The sky didn't look any closer today. But it didn't look so far either.
He thought of home again.
How mornings started with birds.
With his mother boiling water.
With his father's quiet cough.
With the soft noises of life that had nothing to do with cities, or studies, or futures.
Here, mornings were silent. Rooms stayed closed. People moved quietly, as if trying not to disturb the heavy air.
He stood up slowly. Washed his face. Brushed his teeth. Looked at himself in the mirror.
The same boy stared back. But his eyes… his eyes seemed just a little less afraid now.
Still tired. Still unsure. But not running anymore. Not breaking.
He wore his uniform again. The same one he ironed last night with care.
Smoothed the shirt. Fixed the buttons. Straightened his collar. Checked his reflection again.
"You're doing fine," he whispered to himself.
Not loud. Just enough for his heart to hear.
---
Breakfast was the same.
Bread. Egg. Tea.
Silent boys sitting in silent rows.
Eyes on phones. Hands on plates. Mouths chewing without smiles.
He ate quietly too.
Didn't try to make conversation. Didn't look for company.
He had learned already: in this place, silence was normal.
But inside… inside he was talking to himself all the time.
Small thoughts. Small promises.
"Today, listen carefully."
"Today, write neatly."
"Today, don't give up just because you feel alone."
---
He walked to school alone again.
The roads looked a little more familiar now.
He recognized the shops, the posters peeling off walls, the guards at the school gate who barely looked at faces.
The city still felt big.
Still felt cold.
But a little less scary than the first time.
He noticed how fast people walked. How busy their faces looked. How no one stopped unless they had to.
No smiles exchanged. No small talks shared. Just people moving forward. Always forward.
He walked among them. Quiet. Steady.
Holding his bag close. Holding his hopes even closer.
---
The classroom didn't look new anymore.
It looked normal.
It looked like a place he had to return to again and again until it stopped feeling strange.
He took the same seat. Near the window.
Opened his notebook. Arranged his pens.
Looked out at the sky again.
Grey. Cloudy. Heavy with quiet.
No birds. No wind. Just the stillness of tall buildings pressing down.
But inside, he felt something small. A tiny light refusing to go out.
"I came here for a reason."
---
Classes began properly today.
Teachers arrived with books, with notes, with expectations written in their eyes.
Some smiled. Some didn't.
Some spoke kindly. Some spoke like clocks — fast, sharp, moving without pause.
He listened. Carefully.
Wrote notes slowly. Neatly.
Some subjects confused him. Some made sense.
He realized quickly how far behind he was compared to the city students.
How fast they answered. How easily they understood words that felt heavy on his tongue.
But he didn't stop. Didn't let it break him.
Not today. Not tomorrow. Not until he understood too.
He told himself again and again:
"Slow is okay. Slow is still moving."
---
Lunch break came.
He sat alone again.
Same corner table in the canteen.
Same simple meal.
Rice. Vegetables. A spoonful of something he didn't recognize but ate anyway.
Around him, students laughed. Pulled chairs closer. Shared food. Shared jokes.
He watched without anger. Without jealousy. Just… quietly.
Like watching a movie he hadn't been invited to join.
He thought of home again.
Of his mother's cooking.
Of meals shared with warmth, not with noise.
Of his father's quiet nod after a good meal.
Here, food filled his stomach but not his heart.
Still… it was enough for now.
---
Afternoon classes felt a little lighter.
Maybe because his mind was getting used to the rhythm.
Maybe because he understood something clearly for the first time today.
That small victory felt big inside.
Like a light turned on in a dark room.
The teacher noticed him. A small nod. A tiny smile.
Nothing grand. Nothing loud.
But enough to make his chest feel warm for the rest of the day.
He wrote more neatly after that.
Listened more carefully.
Thought,
"I'm not so lost. Not really."
---
Walking back to the hostel, the roads felt the same.
The people moved the same.
But something in him felt lighter.
He noticed things he hadn't before.
The little boy selling tea by the corner.
The old man sweeping leaves without hurry.
The small shop with dusty glass jars full of candies he no longer cared to buy.
Life here moved fast, but quietly too.
Everyone busy with their own dreams, their own worries.
He walked slowly.
Took his time.
Because this city wasn't running away.
And neither was he.
---
Back in his room, he placed his bag down gently.
Took off his uniform. Hung it carefully again.
Changed into something soft. Something light.
Sat at his desk. Opened his notebook.
Read through the day's notes.
Rewrote them neatly, page after page.
Found peace in the quiet scratching of his pen against paper.
Clean table. Clean notebook.
Quiet room. Focused heart.
This became his small routine.
Not grand. Not impressive.
But steady. Calm. His own.
He didn't waste time on his phone.
Didn't scroll through other people's lives.
Didn't chase moments that weren't his.
He stayed in his lane.
In his space.
In his quiet.
---
Later, after the books closed and the notes were done, he picked up his phone.
Called home again.
"How was your day?"
His mother's voice was soft, tired, loving.
He told her everything.
The classes. The food. The loneliness that didn't hurt as much today.
The small things. The small wins.
His father listened. Said little.
But his words always landed heavy and warm.
"Keep going. Step by step. Slow is fine."
His mother said,
"We're proud of you. Always."
Their voices wrapped around him like soft blankets.
Made the small room feel less empty.
Made the sky outside feel less far.
He smiled.
Promised to call again tomorrow.
---
He ironed his uniform again.
Folded it neatly for tomorrow.
Looked at his notes, feeling proud of how clean and organized they looked.
Touched the cover softly.
"I'm building something. Slowly. Quietly. But surely."
He stood by the window before sleeping.
Watched the city lights blinking like tiny stars trying to survive under clouds.
Thought,
"One day… I'll walk these streets not as a stranger, but as someone who belongs."
He smiled.
Not big. Not wide. Just a small, tired, honest smile.
Laid down.
Closed his eyes.
And whispered,
"Not every day feels big. But every day counts."