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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Amaan's POV:
She looked up, and her eyes met mine.
I can see the way she is trying to suppress the snap she felt inside her head when my name was mentioned; I know the reality of the situation hit her like a wave, and she felt everything all at once-anger, fear, and helplessness. She cried before coming here, I could sense that too.
I have known her for so long that I can see right through her emotions.
Quiet transparently.
And the scariest-most dreaded, I saw in her brown eyes was betrayal.
I was expecting her to look at me the way she was right now, but I had hoped it wouldn't be so hard to explain the situation when I got to speak to her.
Now, I doubt if she even wants to talk to me.
The people around us are unaware of the fact that we were buddies in high school. Best friends you could say. And I'd like to keep it that way.
Her mother is clutching onto her arm so tight in half authority and half fear that Zumar might leave the place anytime soon. The grip wouldn't let her do so.
"Zumar, dear, why don't you show Amaan around the house?" Abd-al Razzakh, her father, suggested.
It was visible to me that Farzana tensed at the unexpected state,ment made by her father, but she let go of Zumar's hand, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
I looked at my mom, who was standing beside me, giving me a warm smile, but I was too aware it was a warning asking me to play along.
She didn't have to fake it. Because I surely wasn't.
"Let's go?" I almost whisper, since she was standing right in front of me it was hard for her to miss those words.
She nodded. We excused ourselves and I let her take the lead.
We were on the first floor when her silence started to itch me. There is no one around she can at least talk to me! But she doesn't utter a word.
I don't like her, that way. But I am doing this for her, for our friendship's sake. The least she could do is understand..but for that, I have to explain myself.
"Zumar" I call from behind, but she keeps walking. Knowing that she heard me but chose to remain silent I have no choice but to follow her.
We stopped in a room with an expansive area, the kind that took you by surprise with its vastness. The walls are adorned with enormous paintings, each a masterpiece in its own right, with vibrant colours and delicate strokes capturing landscapes, portraits, and abstract scenes.
It felt like stepping into a gallery, a place designed to awe and inspire.
But none of those paintings-no matter how stunning-could compare to the beauty God had coloured in the girl walking before me.
