𝐓𝐮 𝐦'𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐬; 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐆𝐚𝐧𝐠

𝐎𝐧 𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐭 á 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬?

'You're somewhere else with your mind, i notice it.'' Mohamed said. ''Why do you keep looking at your phone?''he asked.

''I talked with Naila yesterday.'' I simply said, not wanting to give out too much information. ''Did that girl do something with you? You saw her once and it was a short talk.'' He said.

''It wasn't just the talk, it was her. I don't know how to explain it i just, i don't know.'' I answered, deep in thoughts. ''Love is not for us Zakaria, focus on your music, not on a girl who lives all the way in Paris.'' I knew he was right, but I felt drawn to her, I wanted her.

We had been in the studio the entire day, from 9 in the morning until late in the evening. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a notification from her, but nothing.

I was on my way home. The streets were empty, a few cars but not much. I arrived in front of the building I lived in, which was almost falling apart. The place where I come from is shit, but it's my home where my friends are, the place I grew up and probably will die.

As I unlocked the front door, the familiar creak echoed through the hallway. I trudged up the stairs, each step reminding me of the countless times I'd climbed them, returning home from long days at the studio. The walls were covered in faded graffiti, memories of my younger days.

When I finally reached my apartment, I flicked on the light, casting a dim glow over the modest space. It wasn't much, but it was mine. I tossed my keys into the small table by the door and collapsed onto the worn-out couch. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional hum of traffic outside.

I pulled out my phone again, the screen still void of any notifications from Naila. Frustrated, I threw it aside and stared at the ceiling. Why did I feel this way? Why did she occupy my thoughts so completely? It was just one conversation, one fleeting moment, yet it had ignited something inside me.

I tried to push the thoughts of her away, reminding myself of Mohamed's words. Love is not for us, Zakaria. Focus on your music. He was right. Music has always been my sanctuary, my escape from the harsh realities of life. But no matter how much I tried to focus, her face kept appearing in my mind.

I got up and walked over to my small makeshift studio in the corner of the room. The equipment was old, but it still worked, and that was all that mattered. I put on my headphones and let the music take over, hoping it would drown out my thoughts. As I played, the rhythm and melody began to flow, a reflection of the turmoil inside me.

Hours passed, and the night deepened. I glanced at the clock; it was well past midnight. I decided to check my phone one last time before calling it a night. To my surprise, there was a message from Naila. My heart raced as I opened it.

From: @NailaNadiyah

Hey, sorry I haven't texted you today. I had an exam, and I had to fill in an important form.

I read the message, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. It was a simple message, nothing profound, but it did mean she had been thinking about me.

To: @ NailaNadiyah

Hey, it's fine. How did the exam go?

It didn't take long for her to respond.

From: @NailaNadiyah

It went alright, enough about me. How was your day?

To: @ NailaNadiyah

It went alright you could say. No it didn't, I waited for your message the entire day.

From: @NailaNadiyah