The Weight of Silence

Chapter 7

27. September, 1997
London, England

It was Friday night, and Nadiira and I were buzzing with excitement as we made our way to the movies. We'd been planning this all week, hyping ourselves up for the new action film everyone was raving about. The cool evening air made the walk even better, and the streets were alive with the soft hum of weekend energy.

Nadiira was talking a mile a minute, laughing about the drama at school and teasing me about my snack obsession.

"You're going to get popcorn and chocolate, aren't you?" she teased, nudging me with her elbow.

"Obviously," I replied, grinning. "What's a movie without snacks?"

When we reached the theater, it was packed. People were milling about, waiting for their showtimes, the smell of buttered popcorn heavy in the air. We were chatting about the trailers we were hoping to see when I spotted him.

Sayjan.

He was leaning against the wall with a group of his friends, laughing at something one of them said. He looked relaxed, his dark hair falling just slightly over his forehead, his smile easy and genuine. But the moment our eyes met, his expression shifted.

He froze.

For a second, he just stared at me, his smile faltering, and then he quickly looked away, turning his attention back to his friends. My stomach dropped.

"Adma," Nadiira said, her voice sing-songy. "Ohhh, Adma."

"What?" I asked, trying to play dumb.

"Don't you 'what' me," she said, her grin widening. "I saw that!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I muttered, my face growing warm.

"Oh, please." She stopped walking and turned to face me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "You and him. That wasn't just a random look—you two have history. Spill!"

"There's nothing to spill," I said quickly, but my voice wavered, betraying me.

"Adma," she said, dragging out my name. "Don't make me beg. You know I'll get it out of you eventually."

I rolled my eyes, trying to focus on the line ahead of us, but my mind was racing. I kept sneaking glances in Sayjan's direction, and every time, I caught him doing the same. He'd quickly look away whenever I noticed, but it was obvious he couldn't stop himself.

And neither could I.

I wanted to go over to him, to say something, but the way he kept avoiding my gaze, the way he shifted uncomfortably whenever his friends spoke to him, made it clear that he didn't want to be seen with me. It was like he was hiding me, and that realization stung more than I wanted to admit.

"Okay, seriously, what is going on with you two?" Nadiira asked as we waited in line. "

"There's nothing going on," I said, but my voice was too quiet, too unsure.

She gave me a knowing look. "Liar."

Before I could respond, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Sayjan and his friends were heading toward the theater entrance. He glanced back at me, just for a second, and our eyes met again. This time, there was something different in his expression—something tense and conflicted.

I felt my chest tighten.

"Adma," Nadiira whispered, leaning closer. "He likes you. I can see it."

I didn't answer. I didn't know how to explain the tangled mess of feelings inside me—or the way his behavior made me feel like I was something to be hidden.

After we got our tickets, we headed into the theater, but I couldn't focus on the movie. The action scenes, the explosions, the jokes—it all blurred together as my thoughts kept circling back to him.

When the movie ended, we stepped out into the cool night air, our laughter echoing down the quiet street. We were joking about one of the over-the-top fight scenes when I saw them again.

Sayjan and his friends were standing outside, talking and laughing. My heart skipped a beat, and my gaze found him almost instantly. He was looking at me too, but the moment our eyes met, he looked away, his jaw tightening.

"Adma," Nadiira whispered, her tone dripping with glee. "Your man is here."

"He's not my man," I muttered, trying to sound unaffected.

"Oh, come on. The way he's looking at you? He might as well have a sign that says 'I'm obsessed.'"

Before I could respond, one of his friends, Adam, called out. "Nadiira!"

She lit up, grinning as she walked over to him. They started chatting, their conversation easy and playful, leaving me standing there, feeling awkward and exposed.

Then, another guy from their group stepped forward. I recognized him instantly—Nabil from primary school. He'd grown up since I'd last seen him, his curly black hair and confident smile giving him an air of easy charm.

"What did you think of the movie?" he asked, his voice warm and friendly.

I hesitated, glancing at him and then at Sayjan. He was standing a few steps away, his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the ground. But I could feel his tension, the way his shoulders stiffened every time Nabil spoke to me.

"It was good," I said, forcing a smile.

"Yeah? I thought so too," Nabil replied, his smile widening. "I'm Nabil, by the way. You probably don't remember me."

"I do," I said quickly. "From primary school, right?"

He grinned. "Yeah. You've got a good memory."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sayjan shift uncomfortably. His jaw was tight, his gaze darting between me and Nabil like he was barely holding himself back.

"So, are you and Nadiira headed anywhere else tonight?" Nabil asked, his tone casual but curious.

I hesitated, glancing at Nadiira, who was still deep in conversation with Khaled. Part of me wanted to say yes, to see where this might go with Nabil. But another part of me—the part that still couldn't let go of the way I felt about Sayjan—held me back.

"Uh, honestly I think I'm just going home." I said finally.

"Cool," Nabil said, his smile lingering. "Maybe I'll see you around."

As he walked away, I glanced back at Sayjan. His expression was a storm of emotions—jealousy, frustration, something else I couldn't quite place. For a moment, I thought he might finally say something, might finally step forward.

But he didn't.

He just stood there, watching me with an intensity that made my chest ache, before turning and walking away with his friends.

The sting of his silence lingered as I followed Nadiira down the street, her laughter filling the air as she teased me about Nabil. But all I could think about was the look on Sayjan's face—and the words he still hadn't said.