I'm sure you've heard a lot about unrequited love, but what if I say there exists an unwilling love, hidden somewhere between the echoes of silence and the whispers of the heart's secrets? A love that fights to stay buried, yet yearns to be discover...
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๑ 🥀 ๑
The darkness consumed him once again, suffocating him like an unseen shroud. He despised nights like these...nights where he felt trapped in the confines of a cramped dimly lit room.
Blinking away the blur he struggled to make out the shapes around him. Then moved towards the door only to realize it was locked. Chills of fear crawled on his body.
Bang...bang bang!
His fists pounded on the door, desperate for escape.
"Baba!" he cried out with tears welling in his eyes. "Baba, please!" But there was no response only the echo of his own voice reverberating in the silence. "It's scary in here, please open the door. Please let me out," he pleaded in a voice cracking with fear.
Still, there was no answer. Exhausted, he sank to the floor feeling utterly abandoned.
But then, footsteps approached, and the door burst open and he was enveloped in an embrace. "What did you call me?" the figure before him asked.
Relieved, "Baba," he replied with the fear dissipating. "That's my boy," the man exclaimed lifting him with joy.
Shazal cackled with joy.
The terror looked at him with pity and walked out of the room.
"Remember me, okay?" The man said earnestly. "You have to remember me."
But before Shazal could respond, the ringing of a phone shattered the moment, pulling him back to reality.
He was startled awake and reached to silence the alarm.
A few minutes were dedicated to silence when he just sat there on his bed. The night lamp was working on its own, the room was not dark, so he could see Shayan still sleeping soundly, his leg protruding from the blanket.
He sighed pushing aside the remnants of his dream. There were gaps in his memory, moments forgotten over the years. Yet those vivid dreams remained, haunting him like distant echoes.
Today was different, in the end, he was happy? That seemed to him like a good omen.
With a gentle nudge, he roused his brother. "Shayan," he calls. "It's time for Fajr."
"Mhm" Shayan turned from his position but there were no attempts from him to leave the bed anytime soon. He left him there and went into the washroom.
Having freshened up when he came out with a towel rubbing circles on his head Shayan was still having the sleep of his life, he nudged again and looked at the time. If he stayed more, he would miss Fajr; hence, deciding against the willingness to splash down a bucket of water on Shayan, he scurried out.
Returning from the mosque Shazal heads straight to the prayer room, where Hayat is seated with her hands cupped in prayer. Upon hearing his footsteps, she concludes her dua and greets him with a warm smile, her left cheek dimpling ever so slightly.
