under the covers [hs au]

chapter fifty-one.

hiiii. please remember to vote and comment if you haven't already. the story will be done in a few chapters.

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What was Samira's villain origin story?

A mind-twisting riddle her life was.

Her heart no longer hammered at the thought of the last pair of lips she kissed—it was somewhat heartening nowadays.

Samira journaled the parallels—her experiences as a child and how they unveiled themselves through Harry. Her father taught her that raising her voice was impolite, and it carried into another form when Harry would rage on and on as her mouth remained shut. The tears she hid from him, the advantage he took from her. Harry's impassioned yet manipulative words always blinded her, just like abuse was disguised as love during her childhood.

Perhaps Wapa was her hero, but he was also her villain origin story.

Her heart wasn't cold, though. Allah ordered Samira to call out the abuse rather than being patient with it, but that didn't mean disrespecting her parents, too. When it came to Wapa, he grew up in his homeland back in Sri Lanka with nothing, and he gave Samira a life in America with everything. His childhood shaped who he was, just like hers. Maybe those ideals sat in his heart perfectly, so how could he have known that they wouldn't fit for Samira the same?

But now Wapa learned he'd been wrong because Samira walked through fire to break the cycle of trauma.

However, she dealt with one thing: Zafri, Harry, or no one at all?

Could she be better off alone? Or did Wapa make a point when he said she needed someone?

Did she need Harry? For anything?

Samira wondered how Harry has coped over the past five months. She could imagine his dim room as he hid under the covers, finding solace in a drink or two because she wasn't there to run her hands through his soft hair. Maybe he started going back to therapy and then to Chester right after, listening to the roaring river with a new journal. His heart might have withdrawn from the rainy days of Liverpool, dwelling elsewhere to get over Samira.

They were each other's first love, and it often baffled Samira how God worked in mysterious ways. Samira and Harry acquired the same thing, but not at the same time. Harry learned to love himself with Samira, but Samira learned to love herself after him.

The two were lost, regardless of finding one another. Perhaps Harry never actually needed Samira, and Samira never needed Harry.

But Harry's heart still yearned for Samira—it was still in her hands, beating for her. There were promises Harry made at the very end, and the only promise he asked of Samira was for her to come back and love him again—and if not, he needed to see her—at least one more time.

And Samira needed to see Harry, to return his heart safely, somehow. Samira would be lying if she said she didn't miss him, too.

"Well, why do you think he was selfish with you?"

Eid had passed, and the September clouds wafted in the Columbus night sky. Rain raced down the window. After Samira got dressed, she stood in front of her vanity, listening to Dr. Ayub through her phone.

"I don't know. He's called me selfish before, but it was at this one time where I was doing something for myself. But . . . he would make sure his hand was in mine, or his arm would be around my waist. He wanted everyone to know that I was his."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Very isolated." Samira rubbed her arms. "Like, I couldn't even have time for myself."