Beneath the Silence

Chapter 6: By the Lake

The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting a warm, golden light over the lake. Dahlia wasn't particularly fond the scenery but she was sure that Yusuf probably would have been mesmerized by the scene. He'd probably gasp, open his mouth super wide and say something like 'oh my goodness this is a-ma-zing!'

Dahlia sat on the wooden dock at the end of the lake, her legs crossed, eyes fixed on the way the sunlight played across the water. Behind her, the camp buzzed with activity—kids laughing, counsellors shouting instructions, the crackle of campfires being lit and games being played—but it all felt distant to her, like a scene from a play she was only half-watching. She didn't really care to join.

Dahlia wasn't one for camp activities. Or much of any social activities for that matter. The noise, the constant movement—they didn't resonate with her the way they did with the others. She already knew that and so did everyone else. Instead, she found herself drawn to the quiet of the gentle breeze over the lake, where the only sound was the gentle lapping of the water against the shore, the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the chirping of birds in the distance. Here, she could think, although she didn't really have much to think about. She just liked observations more than anything else.

As she watched the light flicker on the water in the rhythmic fashion, her thoughts drifted to Yusuf. Over the past few years, he had become a constant in her life, always hovering nearby, never too far away. She had gotten used to him. He was different from the others—persistent, curious, always trying to understand her in a way no one else bothered to. She didn't really think of herself as interesting but for some reason he did. She found it slightly puzzling, but also intriguing. It was strange, almost contradictory—she didn't need anyone, yet she had allowed Yusuf to stay close, tolerated his presence in a way she didn't with others. Why is that? Not even she knew.

Yusuf was just as much of an enigma to Dahlia as she was to him. His emotions were so open, so visible, that even she couldn't ignore them. He wore his feelings like a second skin, and she could see them in every glance, every word, every awkward laugh. He didn't try to hide anything. Every expression he wears conveys exactly what he's thinking. She found the sheer range and breadth of his emotions overwhelming and incredible. Fear, longing, determination—they were foreign concepts to her, things she understood only in the abstract. And yet, in Yusuf, these emotions were so raw, so vivid, that they almost became tangible, like colours she could see but not touch.

Despite her detachment, Dahlia sensed a faint connection—no that's not it, something, a faint something—with Yusuf. It wasn't something she could name—caring, affection, whatever it was that others felt—but it was something. She knew that Yusuf's presence in her life was different. She enjoyed it. In its own way, it was comforting, a steady rhythm in a world that often felt disjointed and chaotic. No matter what was going on that day he'd always be there with a smile beaming from across the room.

Her thoughts wandered back to the bus ride to the campsite. Unlike Yusuf, she hadn't felt any of the same anxieties or pressures that seemed to weigh on him. She had however noticed, of course—how he kept glancing back at Ezekiel, how the air seemed charged between them—but it didn't touch her. Dahlia felt like she was watching it all from behind a screen like a movie, like she was watching a storm approach from behind a glass wall, safe and untouched.

Her reverie and self-introspection was suddenly interrupted by an unexpected commotion. Dahlia turned her head slightly, catching sight of the camp counsellor returning with Yusuf and Ezekiel in tow. The other kids were gathering around them, whispering and gasping at the sight of Yusuf's battered appearance. From her spot by the lake, Dahlia watched the scene unfold, her expression not changing.

Yusuf looked worn down. He was bruised, bloodied, his usual lively demeanour replaced by a quiet, almost solemn resolve. The previous anxiety she could so clearly see on his face was no longer there. As the counsellor reprimanded the boys, Dahlia felt something stir within her—a strange feeling she couldn't quite place, she didn't have the vocabulary necessary to describe it. When Yusuf looked up and met her gaze, she held it for a moment, searching his face for something she couldn't name. Then, without a word, she turned away. She didn't go to him, but the feeling still lingered, a fleeting sense of concern, perhaps, though Dahlia wasn't sure.