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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๑ 🥀 ๑
The night sky reminds me of you, The brilliance of the sun reflects you. The stars, twinkling in silent grace, Everything is here-except you.
The object of my longing is you, For whom I ache and yearn, it's you. And if there's one I cannot endure, Without hesitation, it's still-you.
The fractured dream of me and you, Etched in my heart, so bruised and blue. Bit by bit, I'll carve it away, Bit by bit, I'll let go of you
She cries that day, awfully lot. Because if she didn't, she could die, the tears would flow, seeping their way towards her heart through the veins, and the meek organ wouldn't have the strength to hold them. So it would burst, and she would die. So she cries.
The click of the switch flooded the room with light, causing Yusra to groan and dig deeper into the couch and erase the traces of tears.
The stillness was shattered, everything suddenly too bright and overwhelming.
Faiza was standing at the door with her arms crossed. "Get up right now," she said briskly, already walking toward the wardrobe.
She remained sprawled on the couch, a closed book and pen lying beside her. She couldn't summon the energy to move, let alone acknowledge her mother's presence.
"Yusra!" Faiza's voice sharpened as she turned to look at her daughter, who hadn't budged an inch. "I know you're not sleeping, stop pretending and get ready. We're going out."
Silence.
"Haya invited us over for dinner and specifically asked to bring you along," Faiza added, rifling through the wardrobe. "And here you are, acting as if moving a muscle would be a crime."
If it had been any other day, Yusra would have jumped at the chance. But not today.
She wasn't in the mood-not when facing Shazal meant reopening wounds she was desperately trying to stitch closed.
She couldn't forget how exposed she felt after laying her heart bare before him.
Vulnerable, raw, and utterly foolish.
And as if that wasn't enough, he'd gone and ruined it by mentioning Mehjabeen right after. A tear slipped silently down her cheek, and she turned, burying her face into the pillow to hide from the world.
"Tell her I'm not feeling well," she muttered into the fabric.
Her mother pulled a suit from the wardrobe and placed it neatly on the bed. She moved to stand in front of Yusra, brows furrowed. "Are you running a fever?"
"No, I'm fine... just a stomach ache," Yusra replied weakly- the lie bitter on her tongue.
Faiza's face softened with concern. "Oh, my dear."
