"She saw it all - the arguments, the silence, the laughter that faded... but strangely, she doesn't remember her own childhood, not even the good moments."
In every middle-class Indian home, there's often a child who grows up without being truly seen - not because her parents don't love her, but because life keeps everyone too busy to notice. She is the youngest, the quiet one, the" choti beti."
This is the story of one such girl - let's call her Riya. but in truth, she could be anyone of us
👧 The Forgotten Childhood
Riya was born into a loving, but financially tight-knit middle-class family. She had an elder brother and an elder sister - both bright, talented, and carrying the weight of the family's hopes.
As the youngest, she wasn't exactly ignored - but she was often overlooked.
Her childhood was a blur of helping hands, background noise, and daily routines. She saw things she shouldn't have had to understand - family arguments, financial stress, emotional silence - but she understood them anyway.
She remembers everything so clearly:
Her mother's tired eyes.
Her father's loud voice when something went wrong.
The heavy silence during fights.
The whispering behind closed doors.
But strangely...
She doesn't remember her childhood.
she doesn't remember what made her smile as a child.
She doesn't remember good moments.
Maybe because there were too few. Or maybe because the pain stayed longer than the joy.
🧸Childhood with No childhood
Before she even understood what a "dream" meant, she was the one who quietly took on little responsibilities — collecting coins, saving rupee by rupee, arranging small surprises for her family. A cake, a small gift, or a festive treat — just to bring some smiles into the home.
She never asked for much.
She just wanted to make her family happy.
But every time she tried, she ended up hearing:
"Paise waste kar diye!"
"Iski Kya zarurat thi?"
That small celebration — planned with hope and love — would end with her being yelled at.
Nothing was truly hers.
Not the moment.
Not the appreciation.
Not even a single dream.
She wasn't allowed to think about what she wanted — because she was too busy holding the pieces together.
When other kids were dreaming of becoming doctors or dancers, Riya's only dream was peace in the house. That's all.
🏡 A House That Didn't Feel Like Home
By the time Riya was old enough to want to play and be pampered, her siblings were already older - busy with studies, entrance exams, and later, jobs in other cities.
She stayed at home, watching life move around her.
Everyone was busy -
mummy with housework.
Papa with office stress.
brother and sister with their future.
And Riya ?
She was Busy dreaming.
She created an imaginary world where she had someone to talk to. where she was asked, "What do you want, Riya?"
But reality was different.
📚 Unseen, Unheard, Unpraised
When her siblings topped their classes, the house lit up with pride.
when she got good marks, the reaction was different.
"Itne padhti Ho, bas itne number aaye?"
And if she scored really well?
No one said anything.
No praise.
No reward.
No smile.
Just... next.
Middle - class families often forget - the youngest child isn't born strong. She becomes strong because she's never given a choice.
She helps her mother without being asked.
She stays silent when her sister is shouting.
She nods, smile, listens, and hides her tears in the washroom.
No one notices - but she remembers it all.
💭 She Saw It All
What her siblings didn't know is That while they were away chasing their dreams, she was home - living through every moment.
Every fight.
Every door slam.
Every night her mother cried in the kitchen.
Every silent dinner.
Every time her father didn't speak for days.
She never told anyone, but she knew when a fight was about to happen. She had memorized everyone's tone, everyone's stress triggers.
She could tell when to speak, when to stay silent, and when to hide in her room.
She became an expert in peacekeeping — But lost her own peace.
💮Left Behind, But Not Lost
As time passed, her sibling left for their dreams - colleges, jobs, bigger cities, better futures.
Riya stayed behind - the girl who never said much, the one who didn't complain. The one everyone called " ghar ki beti, sabse samajhdar."
But deep inside, she felt like a ghost in her own home.
When her siblings returned during holidays, they shared big stories about new friends, new gadgets, new experiences.
And no one asked her how she was.
"Tum toh ghar pe hi rehti ho, tumhe kya problem hogi?"
That hurt more than any scolding.
Because just because she stayed at home, doesn't mean she wasn't fighting her own battles - loneliness, comparison, lack of attention, emotional emptiness.
🌟A Quiet Fire
But something inside Riya didn't break - it burned.
That fire kept her going. She started writing in a secret notebook - her only friend. In those pages, she poured her dreams, pain thoughts, and hopes.
She wrote about wanting to leave one day.
Not to escape her family - but to finally become herself.
The world saw her as the choti beti - sweet, helpful, quiet.
But in truth, she was stronger than all of them.
She was the one who saw the most, felt the most, and yet - said the least.
💬From Riya's Diary
_ " I wish I remembered the games I played, the birthdays I celebrated, the dolls I dressed.
But all I remember are the words spoken in anger, the cries in the other room, the silence during dinner, and the ache of being visible... but not truly seen. _
"Maybe one day, I'll write it all. Maybe one day, I'll be free- Not from my home, but from everything I was forced to carry silently."
💖A Message For Every Younger Daughter
If you're the youngest child in your family, especially a middle - class home, this story is yours too.
You may not always be praised.
You may feel invisible.
You may cry at night and smile in the morning.
You may remember everything - except your own happy memories.
But please know:
You are strong.
You are growing into someone powerful. And one day, let the world hear your voice - loud and clear.
Because the youngest one, who was always watching... is the one who will rise the highest.
💫Want to Share This?
If you felt connected to this story, drop a comment or share it. Maybe someone else out there is reading this with tears in her eyes, realizing that she's not alone.
