I sat on the edge of my bed, the delicate fabric of a little white dress spilling over my
lap like a cascade of silk. My fingers traced the intricate lace trim, twirling it absentmindedly as I gazed out of the second-story window. Sunlight streamed through the glass, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. Beyond the window, my garden was a sunburst of all sorts of colors, a vivid tapestry of life that seemed almost magical in the afternoon light. Roses, tulips, and marigolds swayed gently in the breeze, their petals whispering secrets I longed to understand.
I glanced at the antique clock on the wall, its ornate hands moving with an agonizing slowness. Mohammed would be home soon. The thought brought a flutter of eagerness to my heart. It had been a long, solitary day, filled with the mundane tasks that made time stretch endlessly. But now, with the sun beginning its descent, the promise of his return filled me with a sweet, anticipatory thrill. I got up and i began gushing my heart felt like it was leaking out of my chest and becoming one with with the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, a surge of emotion that left me breathless and trembling with anticipation.
The doorbell rang, echoing through the quiet house, and I rushed to open it, my heart pounding with sudden urgency. There, on the doorstep, lay a blue letter with my name scrawled on it in elegant, familiar handwriting. The return address read "Hafa," and the sight of it sent a chill down my spine. The name "Hafsa" burned through my soul like a knife, cutting deep with the knowledge of who she was and the intense hatred she harbored for me. When we went to school together she always looked at me as if i stole something from her, as if i stabbed her and donated her kidney to spite her, or as if i stole something dear to her. Mohammed wasnt dear to her he was dear to me. The thought of him made my heart strings tug. But i also wanted to fall apart all i wanted was a peaceful life with Mohammed and there she was trying to rip me to shreds. Just like how i want to do with this letter right now. I took a deep breathe and tore the azure blue letter open with dread.
The words inscribed upon the page were like shards of ice piercing through the warmth of my skin. Hafsa's words dripped with malevolent venom, each sentence laced with malice and spite. She accused me of betrayals imagined and real, weaving a monastery of lies designed to shatter my already fragile peace. Her threats were thinly veiled, promising consequences that made my blood run cold. the fear that gripped me was overpowering, drowning out any empathy I might have felt. As I read on, the weight of her words settled like a stone in the pit of my stomach, dragging me deeper into the abyss of her hatred.
And there it was. Her final vengeance. A polaroid of me and mohammed it burned vigorously with the diminishment of age but i knew what it was. our arms wrapped around each other in a tight embrace. But what drew my gaze with a sickening jolt was the red pen slashing across my face, obliterating it from the cherished memory.
The red mark was nothing compared to the written words underneath it read ''you wont have him for long''.
As the doorbell chimed, I hastily tucked the damning letter behind my back, plastering on a smile as I greeted my boyfriend. His beard and curly dark hair framed a face that radiated joy at the sight of me. He had come straight from his engineering job, a bag of noodles in hand—my favorite. Despite my best efforts, the fear still lingered in the depths of my eyes, betraying the facade of normalcy I tried to maintain. He sensed my unease immediately, his brow furrowing in concern as he asked what was wrong. I swallowed hard, attempting to form the words that threatened to spill forth, but found myself paralyzed by fear, the truth trapped within the confines of my trembling lips.
As he drew closer, his kiss enveloped me in warmth, momentarily easing the doubt that gnawed at my insides. His hands traced patterns on my waist, soothing and familiar, lulling me into a false sense of security. But as I lost myself in the moment, I suddenly realized the weight on my hands had vanished. Panic surged through me as I glanced down, only to find the damning letter now held in his grasp.
He had tricked me, seen through my feeble attempt at deception. His eyes bore into mine, a mixture of disappointment and understanding swirling in their depths. The truth hung heavy in the air between us, laying bare the cracks in our supposedly unshakeable bond. I stood there, speechless and exposed, as he silently assessed the wreckage of our trust.
As he held the letter in his hand, a puzzled expression crossed his face. "What is this?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity. I hesitated, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on me. "I think it's just a letter," I replied, my voice wavering slightly. His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. "You think or you know?" he pressed, his tone gentle yet firm. Caught in the grip of my own deception, I faltered, unable to meet his gaze. My mouth tasted bitter as he lifted the letter up to his eye view...
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Shadows of enmity
Non-Fictiondelves into the tumultuous world of the protagonist, whose seemingly idyllic life is shattered by the sudden arrival of a mysterious letter from her past. As she grapples with the venomous words penned by her old acquaintance, Hafsa, the protagonist...