The Geography textbook was finally closed.
For the first time that day, Mahi felt relieved.
No more maps.
No more rivers.
No more memorizing chapters she would probably forget a week after the examination.
Whatever happened tomorrow would happen.
She had done everything she could.
With a tired sigh, she switched off the light and lay down on her bed.
The room was dark.
The ceiling fan spun lazily above her.
Outside, the world was quiet.
Everything was normal.
At least, it should have been.
A few minutes passed.
Then something felt wrong.
Mahi opened her eyes.
The feeling was strange.
Not pain.
Not discomfort.
Just... wrong.
As if her body was trying to tell her something she couldn't understand.
She sat up.
Maybe she was overthinking.
Exams did that to people.
She drank some water and lay down again.
The feeling remained.
This time it felt stronger.
Her heart suddenly seemed louder.
Not faster.
Not slower.
Just louder.
As if someone had turned the volume up inside her chest.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Mahi placed a hand against her chest.
Why could she feel it so clearly?
Had it always been like this?
She tried ignoring it.
A few seconds later she noticed her breathing.
Then she noticed every breath.
Then she noticed how difficult it felt to stop noticing.
Her thoughts started racing.
What was happening?
Why did she feel like this?
Why couldn't she calm down?
The questions came faster and faster.
And then came the thought that changed everything.
What if I am dying?
The moment it appeared, fear took over.
Real fear.
Not the fear of failing an exam.
Not the fear of being scolded.
The fear that something terrible was happening and nobody knew.
Mahi got up immediately.
She walked to her parents.
The words came out awkwardly because she didn't know how to explain what she was feeling.
How could she?
She didn't understand it herself.
All she knew was that she was scared.
Truly scared.
For the first time in her life, she felt afraid of her own body.
Her mother listened.
Then came the response.
Some worries, she was told, did not need to be shared with parents.
Parents already carried enough burdens.
Children had to learn to handle certain things on their own.
She was growing up.
She needed to become stronger.
Mahi looked toward her father.
A small part of her hoped he would disagree.
Instead, he nodded.
He agreed.
The conversation ended there.
For them, it was over.
For Mahi, it had only begun.
She returned to her room.
Lay down.
Closed her eyes.
And listened.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Still there.
She checked again.
Still there.
Again.
Still there.
The reassurance lasted only a few moments before another question appeared.
Then another.
Then another.
By the time sleep finally arrived, the fear had already made itself comfortable.
The next morning, Mahi woke up and immediately checked her heartbeat.
She didn't realize it then.
But that small action would become a habit.
A habit that would follow her for years.
Checking her pulse.
Checking her breathing.
Noticing headaches.
Noticing dizziness.
Noticing every tiny symptom that most people ignored.
The Geography examination came and went.
The questions faded.
The marks faded.
The memories faded.
But that night never did.
Because years later, Mahi would realize something important.
The night before Geography was never about an exam.
It was the night she stopped taking her body for granted.
The night she started questioning every sensation.
The night fear quietly entered her life and refused to leave unnoticed.
The night that changed everything.