𝐓𝐔'𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈 تقبرني,
❝ their love was a silent symphony,
beautiful and tragic,
played only for them,
and heard by none but the night. ❞
𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 ━━━━━
B. WAYNE x FEM!OC
...
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البدايةهمسة،والنهايةصرخة The beginning is a whisper, the end a scream
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MARYAM WAS STILL DAZED, the world around her a cacophony of panic and motion that she could barely process.
The freezing air of the parking lot behind City Hall bit into her skin, sharp and unforgiving, as if trying to snap her back to reality. Grey, clunky cars lined up like faceless sentinels, their dull metallic sheen muted further by the overcast sky.
People flooded out of the building in a chaotic tide, their hurried footsteps echoing off the asphalt. Some were running, others briskly walking, heads down, jackets pulled tight against the cold, all desperate to escape.
Her family surrounded her, their voices a frenzied blur.
"Mar, are you okay?!" "Have you lost your mind?!" "What happened in there?" "Was that Bruce Wayne?!" "That white boy is crazy!" "Maryam, answer me! Are you even listening?!"
The questions came like an onslaught, each one louder than the last, but Maryam couldn't register a single word.
She stood there, mute, her mind a foggy labyrinth of recent events, her body swaying slightly as if the world beneath her feet had shifted off its axis.
Warda, her sister, gnawed at her nails, her other hand protectively cradling her swollen belly. Alma gripped Maryam's arm so tightly it began to hurt, her phone pressed to her ear as she barked orders or pleaded with someone Maryam couldn't identify. Sherine's questions poured out relentlessly, her freckled face a storm of worry and frustration. Rania, pacing in small, frantic circles, muttered to herself, shaking her head as if to dispel her own disbelief.
Aunt Jamila, always the caretaker, tilted Maryam's head this way and that, examining her face with clinical precision. Her hands were warm but firm, her scolding muttered in Arabic, sharp and cutting: "Stupid girl. Careless like always. What were you thinking?"