42. The Yusr of the Usr

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Love is often described as liberating, like the first breeze of spring breathing life into everything around you. But for Yusra, love felt suffocating, it was like living in the shadows she couldn’t escape.

Her love wasn’t meant to be discovered, yet she had longed for it to reach its impossible destination.

When Mehjabeen betrayed her trust, Yusra's hope crumbled. There was no spoken or written promise that Shazal was hers, but she had confided in her friend, hadn’t she? The least Mehjabeen could have done was show a little restraint.

Now, standing before Shazal, Yusra wrestled with the emptiness gnawing at her. She tried to mask the ache, to draw up a void within herself so deep it swallowed every ounce of vulnerability.

But it was hard. Too hard. 

She wanted to study every detail of his face, to lose herself in the warmth of his gaze framed by those impossibly thick lashes. She yearned to ask how his talk with his parents had gone, to shoulder his burdens and offer him strength, as she had always done so.

Yet, she forced herself to lock it all away, pretending to feel nothing, letting the emptiness shield her.

"Are you alright?" His voice broke through her thoughts, his intense gaze was scanning her face as though he was searching for a sign—a shred of the feelings she’d bared before. But she wouldn’t allow herself to falter again.

Not this time.

"I'm fine," she lied, feigning composure.

Before he could press further, Hayat burst into the room, carrying a jug of water. "Api, Mama says dinner's ready. They're waiting for you at the table." She swapped the empty jug on the table for the full one and dashed out just as quickly as she had arrived, leaving Yusra with a brief moment of reprieve.

"Yusra," Shazal began, his tone low but resolute.

"Forget it," she snapped, cutting him off. "Forget I said anything at all." She rubbed her temples, as if to erase the memory of her confession. "I don’t know what I was thinking. I had no right to dump that on you. It was impulsive. Don’t take it to heart."

"Okay," he muttered.

Her wide, glassy onyx eyes met his.

Was it really that easy to convince him? A small part of her felt relieved, while another ached at his quiet acceptance. 

But then his voice shifted, tinged with frustration. "Tell me something, Yusra. All these years, why were you so persistent? Why did my safety matter more to you than your own? You’ve always wanted to be stronger than I am, and I never understood why. What was it all for?"

Her heart twisted, but she kept her voice steady. "We were kids. It doesn’t matter anymore."

"If that’s how it is," he muttered, turning away, "we’ll see how much you can do to stop what’s coming." His words lingered in the air as he walked out leaving her in stunned silence. What was coming?

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