Beyond the veil of Love : A Tale Of Healing & Timeless Love.

01

Ruwaziya.

My heart was filled with purpose as I pursued a career in gynecology.

My late mother's tragic death during childbirth had left a deep mark on my soul and inspired me to become a doctor who specialized in women's reproductive health.

I was determined to use my skills and knowledge to save the lives of pregnant women, to help them bring their children into the world safely and without complications. Every life saved, every successful birth, was a small act of healing for the wound left behind by my mother's passing.

My step mother's harsh words echoes in my mind, the accusations that I was the reason for my mother's death lingering like a dark cloud over my heart.

I knew deep down that it wasn't my fault, but the pain of hearing those words from someone who was supposed to love and care for me was almost unbearable.

My step mother, a woman who was supposed to be a mother figure to me, had instead become a source of abuse and neglect. She had starved and mistreated me, leaving scars on my body and mind that would take a long time to heal.

The emotional scars left by my step mother's abuse had never healed, lingering in my mind like shadows in the corner of my consciousness.

The memories, the pain and the feelings of helplessness haunted me, lurking beneath the surface and resurfacing at unexpected times.

The contrast between my step mother's treatment of me and her own son was stark.

While she doted on him and took care of his every need, she barely acknowledged my existence, let alone took care of me.

Instead, she had found a convenient target in me, someone she could take out her anger and frustration on, treating me with cruelty and abuse instead of love and care.

My father, consumed by grief and anger over my mother's death, had projected his pain onto me. He saw me as the cause of his suffering, blaming me for the void left behind in his life.

His hatred for me was a manifestation of his own guilt and pain, a way to deflect his emotions and assign blame where it did not belong. The guilt I felt for being the reason behind my father's pain added weight to my already heavy heart.

Despite my outward strength and success, I remained haunted by the ghosts of my past, the scars etched deep within my soul, leaving a permanent mark on my psyche.

I had grown up with Amra, my childhood best friend and now a successful social media influencer.
Over the years, we had remained close, despite the whirlwind of my life and her growing fame.

It had been a while since we've last saw each other.

Amra had always been my
"happy pill" - the one person who could bring a smile to my face even on the darkest of days.

I missed Amra terribly when she was away, but I was also filled with pride and happiness seeing her reach new heights in her career.

I knew that no matter how far apart we were, our friendship would always remain as strong as ever, and that I could count on her to be there for me when I needed her, just as she always had been.

I was filled with excitement as I made my way to the airport to pick up Amra, I was looking forward to catching up with her and hearing all about her adventures in the world of online fame.

I parked my car at the arrivals section of the airport, I couldn't help but feel a mix of nostalgia and anticipation.

As I made my way through the arrivals section, lost in thought, I was walking out when a woman suddenly collided with me, causing her hot coffee to splash all over my dress.