Paper Wings: Too sweet to leave, too bitter to forget.

Families are strange. Mine, especially. We fight over teacups, gossip like it’s a national sport, and somehow still eat dinner together like nothing happened. We smile for the world — pretending we’re fine, perfectly normal, high-standing, respectable. But behind those smiles? There are cracks. Secrets we tiptoe around. Truths we quietly sweep under the rug. It’s not all bad, though. Between the drama and the damage, there are moments — small, unspoken, heartfelt ones — that remind you why you stay. Why you forgive. Why you still call this chaos home. I’m Isha. Twenty-three. Currently jobless, perpetually confused, and just trying to make sense of the people who raised me, shaped me, and scarred me — all with love, of course. This isn’t a fairytale. It’s a mess held together with memories, laughter, and a hundred paper wings trying to fly.