Hamza
Life without Sehar felt empty, like a part of me was missing. She was the only person who truly saw me, who looked past the masks I wore and trusted the real me. And I let her down. I broke that trust. Her tears keep replaying in my mind; each one is a reminder of my betrayal. How could I even think about asking her to forgive me when I can't forgive myself?
I had always been there to protect her, standing up to anyone who dared to hurt her, sometimes even threatening them just to make sure she stayed safe. But now, it hits me—I became the very thing I wanted to protect her from. I became the one who caused her pain.I watched her walk away, her pain clear in her every step, like cracks spreading across glass. I wanted to say something, anything, but I knew that words would only make it worse. I could almost hear the words she left unsaid: *"I trusted you."* I wanted to go after her, to tell her how sorry I was, to hold her hand and promise I'd never hurt her again. But how could she ever believe me now? And why should she? I was no longer the person she thought I was—I was just another person who let her down.And now, I'm here, alone, drowning in the regret and guilt of losing the only person who meant everything to me. A part of me wishes for a second chance, not because I deserve it, but because I want to be the person who's worthy of her trust. I want to show her that I can change, that I can be better. But I know it's not that simple.
Tomorrow, I'll finally see Sehar. After all this time, I'll get to see her face, maybe even catch her smile or hear her laughter again. I might even see those eyes that pulled me in from the start. But what if... what if she's happier without me? What if, in my absence, someone else has taken my place? No, I refuse to believe that. I remember the way she looked at me; there was something real in her eyes, something that felt irreplaceable. There couldn't be anyone else, right?I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in these thoughts. My mom is in the other room. She noticed something was wrong the other day when she asked about Sehar, and I couldn't hold back the tears. She didn't press me for details after that. She just gave me space, a quiet understanding that I needed time to process it all.Yesterday, we spent the evening playing board games together. We hadn't done that in ages, and it lightened the quiet, tense mood that had settled over the house. I hadn't realized how much I missed spending time with her, just laughing and letting go, even for a little while. I felt calmer, my mind less tangled. Maybe I should do this more often—just be with her, my mom, and give her back a little of the joy she's always tried to give me.Spending time with family has this way of grounding you, easing your mind. It's like a quiet reminder that, even when everything else feels uncertain, there's still a place you belong.As I drifted off to sleep, the thought of seeing Sehar tomorrow lingered in my mind. I'd give anything for one small chance to start over, even if it's just a look, just a moment to show her that I still care. But more than that, I just want her to be happy, even if it means her life doesn't include me.Morning comes, and I'm filled with nervous excitement. I take extra time getting ready, smoothing down my shirt, fixing my hair, all the while my heart pounding at the thought of seeing her. I wonder if she's thinking about today too, or if she's moved on and left all of this behind.When we finally reach on her stop to pick her up , I take a deep breath, hoping that today brings a step closer to making things right—or at least some kind of peace.
She steps onto the bus, Ahmed just ahead of her. I don't dare look up. My heart races, and guilt twists in my stomach. I can't face her—not yet. Ahmed comes over, greets me with a simple handshake, as if nothing's changed. But Sehar walks past us quietly and takes her seat without a word.I glance at her, just for a second, and the sight hits me like a punch. Her eyes, once so bright and full of life, are now shadowed and distant. The spark I loved, the warmth, it's all gone, replaced by something hollow. I know I'm the reason for that change, and it stings more than I could have imagined.It's not just sadness in her eyes; there's something deeper, a kind of hurt that cuts right through me. And in that moment, I know that this image, of Sehar sitting there, silent and withdrawn, will stay with me until I make things right.I try to think of something to say, something to bridge the gap between us, but every word feels wrong, like it would only add to her pain. So I sit there, silent, torn between wanting to reach out and knowing I have no right to.As the bus rolls forward, I steal another glance. She's looking out the window, lost in her own world, and I wonder what she's thinking. Does she miss what we had? Or does she just want me to stay away? I realize that if I'm ever going to have a chance at fixing this, I need to show her—not just tell her—that I'm sorry.And maybe, when the time is right, I'll find the courage to finally look her in the eye and say the words that have been building up in my chest since the day I hurt her: *I'm sorry, Sehar. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right.*
YOU ARE READING
The Moment She Saw Him
RomanceOne glance of him was enough for her to fall for him ! But she thought he would never love her for how she looked but slowly things changed