Her Sky, Her Rules

They always told me the sky wasn’t mine. That dreams were too loud for

a girl like me. But I learned to draw my silence into wings.

Before I understood art, I learned obedience. Before I knew how to paint

a sky, I learned how to fold silence into chores. Miss Rizwan saw

me. Not just the quiet girl in the back, but the one

hiding colors inside. She gave me a form. A key. My house had

walls thicker than concrete. Words were thrown like bricks. ‘Girls don’t dream.’

But I kept mine under my pillow. When I spoke that day,