TORN BY ECSTASY BY Vail blackRose

chapter 4

Chapter Four: Zara

Two weeks. That's how long it's been since I last heard anything from Ahad. Each day that passed, the hope I had been clinging to slipped further out of reach, and now, it felt like it had disappeared entirely. Why should I have expected any different?

Only seven girls around the world get the scholarship, and what were my chances? Since my parents died, I hadn't had a real opportunity to play at any national or international level. My mental health was in shambles—a mess I could barely make sense of. I barely spoke to anyone, ate whatever was put in front of me, and slept only in short, restless bursts. At night, I lay awake, drowning in fear and the weight of constant pressure. I felt as though I were walking through a fog, lost in a life that wasn't mine anymore.

The only thing keeping me from falling apart completely was my faith—my prayers to Allah, seeking comfort in the silence when the world felt too loud.

Just as I finished my Salah and began to fold the prayer mat, I heard my aunt's voice echo from the other room, cutting through my thoughts like a sharp blade. "Zara, Ahad is here!"

My heart jumped in my chest. Ahad's here? I quickly wrapped the mat and threw my dupatta loosely around my head, rushing downstairs. My cousin Amirah gave me one of her usual cold stares as I passed her on the stairs, but I ignored her. I had long since stopped caring about what she thought. She was a part of the world I was trying to escape.

When I stepped outside, the heat of the driveway hit me, but my eyes were on Ahad. He stood by his car, his expression unreadable. For a moment, my stomach twisted. What if it was bad news?

As I approached, he leaned in, his voice low enough that no one else could hear. "I have good news for you... and bad news for me."

I stopped in front of him, feeling like I couldn't breathe. "Did I get it?" The words tumbled out in a rush, my pulse racing in my throat.

Ahad's lips pulled into a slow, knowing smile as he pulled out his phone and held it up for me to see. My eyes locked on the screen, where my heart all but stopped. Tickets. Accommodations. It was real.

I got it.

I let out a gasp of disbelief, my legs nearly giving way beneath me. Before I could stop myself, I was jumping up and down like a little girl, my long hair slipping free from its tie, tumbling in waves down my back. It always did that. No matter how hard I tried to keep it in place, the thick strands refused to cooperate. I fumbled to gather the waist-length locks again, trying to twist them into a knot, but the excitement was too overwhelming. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"Leave them," Ahad said, his voice suddenly softer, his eyes watching me with an intensity I wasn't used to. "Let them be."

I hesitated, my hands frozen in place as I glanced up at him, confused. "If I go back inside like this, Aunt will kill me."

Ahad didn't respond immediately. There was a pause, and his eyes lingered on me longer than usual. I pulled the dupatta over my hair again, the fabric barely resting on my head.

"How will you leave?" he asked, breaking the silence. His tone shifted back to practical, as if shaking himself out of some distant thought. "You'll need your things, at least your documents and some clothes. And no one can know."

His words cut through my excitement, bringing me back to reality. I hadn't thought about how I was going to actually leave. The logistics—my things, my ID, my clothes—I hadn't planned for any of it. Typical me, always reckless, never fully thinking things through. Clumsy in action, empathetic to a fault, but never quite prepared for real-life challenges.