Ukiran aksara

A Heart Reckoning

Hai-hai! Udah berapa abad aku gak muncul ya? 😔 ada yang kangen gak? Ini aku iseng-iseng aja bikin short story dalam bahasa inggris wkwk.

Apa kalian mau versi bahasa Indonesianya? Kasih tau aku ya siapa tau aku berbaik hati mau bikinin.

Jangan lupa vote dan komennya!

***

Zanna always believed that love was supposed to be a refuge, a place of safety and warmth. She grew up watching romantic films, dreaming of a partner who would hold her close and make her feel cherished. When she met Faraz at a café during her college years, it felt like fate. His laughter was infectious, his smile brightened the room, and for the first time, she thought she had found her safe haven.

Yet, as months passed, that flame flickered into a consuming fire of anger.

Zanna sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the reflection in the cracked mirror. She touched the fading bruise on her arm, its colors a testament to the last argument with Faraz. The faint blue and purple marks seemed to tell a story of their own—one filled with pain and confusion. She had long ago learned to cover her wounds, not just from the world, but from herself.

It had started slowly, like a winter chill creeping into her bones. At first, Faraz was charming, the kind of guy who could make her laugh on the darkest of days. He brought her flowers, whispered sweet nothings, and made her feel special in a way she had never experienced before. Faraz had a way of making her feel special, like she was the center of his universe. Zanna fell for him hard, swept away by the whirlwind of romance. But beneath that charm lurked something darker, something she couldn’t see until it was too late.

The first time he raised his hand, it was in frustration, a misplaced gesture that barely brushed her cheek. “I’m sorry,” he had said, eyes wide with remorse. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” She had wanted to believe him. She had wanted to believe that the man who had once made her laugh was still inside there somewhere.

But as the weeks passed, the moments of tenderness became interspersed with violence. Every time Faraz struck her, he would turn into a different person—one who was angry, irrational, a monster who wore the face of the man she loved. And she was often left wondering which Faraz would come home. Would it be the gentle artist who painted their dreams together, or the monster who shattered those dreams with his fists?

Zanna became skilled at hiding her bruises, both physical and emotional. She wore long sleeves even in the summer, and she learned to laugh off her injuries when friends asked about them. “Oh, I bumped into a door,” she’d say, forcing a smile that felt foreign on her lips.

She thought about leaving, about finding the courage to walk away, but the fear was paralyzing. The thought of being alone, of facing the world without him, filled her with dread. The love they shared felt real amidst the chaos, and she couldn’t reconcile the sweet moments with the harsh reality of his violence.

It was a rainy Saturday evening, The sound of raindrops tapping against the window mirrored the turmoil inside her. Zanna found herself drifting in and out of the plot with tears streaming down her face, her mind consumed by thoughts of leaving. But where would she go? How would she explain the bruises, the scars that ran deeper than the skin? Every time she thought about breaking free, her heart would clench, weighed down by the love she still felt for him.

A few hours later, she heard the familiar sound of Faraz’s key turning in the lock. Panic surged through her. She quickly wiped away the remnants of her tears, put on a brave face, and turned her attention to the door.

“Zanna!” he called, his voice loud and cheerful, a stark contrast to the mood she was in. She forced herself to smile as he entered, soaking wet from the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead. He looked almost boyish, and for a moment, the warmth of his smile made her forget the turmoil within.