ENTANGLED AND HEARTS (Her Price For Dreams)

Chapter 3:Her Olive Hijab🥰(SAMAR)

Samar Ibrahim's POV

Mamma, as I stepped onto the DES stadium court today, memories came flooding back. I was seven again, hearing your cheers, seeing your radiant smile, and feeling your unconditional love.

Your warm eyes, full of pride and confidence, still linger in my mind. Every victory was ours, every triumph a testament to your unwavering support.

But life took you away, leaving an unfillable void.

You attended every match, never missing a single big win until... until you left me alone in this world.

I still cherish the memory of my first youth championship win at seven. You gifted our team a basket filled with goodies, but remarkably, you also gave the same to the losing team. That was your kindness, Mamma - always putting others first.

You'd say, 'Love, be kind to everyone, no matter how they treat you. Allah will reward you.' Your words echo in my heart.

And today I saw a girl with eyes that mirrored your kindness. I'm terrible with colors, I couldnt recognize what shade of brown but her brown eyes sparkled with compassion. She wrote me a note, urging me to quit smoking.

For the first time in years, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, your legacy lives on through strangers with kind hearts.

YOUR SAMAR

I close my journal( Diary) and step onto the balcony, gazing out at Delhi's vibrant night scene. The streets pulse with energy, lights illuminating the darkness. Yet, I know that darkness runs deeper, residing within people, unstoppable by artificial glow.

I light a cigarette, the familiar ritual offering temporary solace. But as I raise it to my lips, my hand hesitates.

Her face appears before my eyes, unexpectedly.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the image. But when I attempt to take a puff again, her presence lingers.

I laugh in disbelief. What's happening to me? How can a stranger's words affect me so profoundly?

"Dont smoke,You seem like a good person,you need to live longer." she'd written.How can you be so sure I am a good person.

Her words echo in my mind, refusing to be silenced.

The city lights twinkle below, but my thoughts are consumed by the darkness within.

And her.

As I stand there, frozen, the cigarette burning unused in my hand.

I can quit smoking; I just don't want to quit it. It's my temporary solace for permanent pain. The nicotine rush numbs my emotions, helps me forget.

I attempt to take another puff, but my hand hesitates. Again.

Frustrated, I toss the cigarette away, watching it fall to the ground.

Maybe I need some rest, I tell myself.

As I lie in bed, my thoughts drift back to her. Wondering if I'll see her again.

What drew her to me? Was it pity or genuine concern?

I recall her eyes, warm and compassionate, like a ray of sunlight in my darkness.

Why did she care?

Why did her words affect me so deeply?