I'm sure you've heard a lot about unrequited love, but what if I say there exists an unwilling love, hidden somewhere between the echoes of silence and the whispers of the heart's secrets? A love that fights to stay buried, yet yearns to be discover...
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The silence that followed was deafening, the kind that settles after a storm, leaving behind a lingering fear of the destruction it might have caused.
Shazal stood frozen, words caught in his throat as if an invisible fist clenched it tight. He was too afraid to break the silence, afraid that speaking might shatter whatever fragile balance remained.
For a moment, he doubted what he had heard. But her eyes-those charcoal eyes, rimmed red and glistening-told him a truth his ears couldn't deny.
Yusra never cried, not Yusra.
But when she raised her hand to wipe her tears, smudging the faint traces of kohl beneath her eyes, the reality struck him like a blow.
This was real. She had said it, and now she was baring the pain he had caused.
That smudge... it was his doing. And in that instant, Shazal would have surrendered his very soul if it meant bringing the light back to her eyes. The thought of her tears carved an ache deep into his chest.
His head throbbed violently, a sharp pain that blurred his vision. He closed his eyes, pressing his palm to his temple, trying to steady himself.
"But Mehjabe-" Before he could gather his thoughts or find the courage to respond, Yusra slipped past him and left the room.
Shazal sank into the nearest chair, unable to stay upright as the weight of her words pressed down on him. His head spun, the ache spreading through his body like a heavy fog.
How could he have been so blind?
It's Mehjabeen's fault-it's not completely, even he played a part, so what if she said that to keep him to herself, he should have been smart, but he was so foolish to assume Yusra liked Daniyal, to push her away because of a false notion? The words she had spoken echoed in his mind, over and over: "I fell in love with you."
Love. She loved him. Truly? Deeply?
The realization left him reeling. But was he deserving of that love? Did he even know how to reciprocate it? He wasn't sure.
But what was this strange feeling bubbling inside his chest, he was yet to discover.
His head pounded harder with every thought, each one crashing into him like waves. It was too much, too fast. He couldn't make sense of it, not yet.
There was one thing he was sure of, though. He needed to see his mother first.
He rose from the chair, leaving the room quietly, and as he passed through the living room, his eyes instinctively searched for Yusra's bag. It was gone, no longer lying where it had been earlier. The sight left an ache in his chest, but he shook it off and made his way to his parents' room.
