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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A/N:- Eid Mubarak! I'm back with an update as promised. Enjoy reading, and keep commenting...helps me with the pace with which I write lol.
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As soon as Adnan stepped out of the gate, the world seemed to exhale.
The ambulance was rushed inside, its flashing lights painting the night in streaks of red and white.
The connecting gate between the houses creaked open, and within moments, Daniyal was lifted onto the stretcher. His family moved with him—Shavez, Zaki, everyone—shadows trailed in urgency.
Their focus was singular, their hands reaching, their voices blurring together in the chaos.
And then, they were gone. The ambulance doors shut with a hollow finality, its siren fading into the distance, carrying him away.
Yusra knelt on the damp grass, her hands sinking into the earth as if it could anchor her.
If only it could.
The water seeped into the fabric of her dress, cold and heavy, but she barely noticed. Zayd crouched beside her with his face tense.
People were gathering now. Voices murmured. Questions flew. The weight of their stares pressed against her skin, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.
Then, through the open gate, Hayath came running.
She barely had time to register before hands grabbed her arms, pulling her up. The world tilted.
She felt nothing. Nothing but the emptiness where the chaos had been, the numbness settling deep, curling around her ribs like an ache she couldn’t name.
“Api!” Hayath’s voice was frantic, her grip tightened “Are you hurt? Say something!”
Yusra blinked. The words felt distant, muffled, like they were traveling through water.
“I—” She tried, but her voice cracked.
Hayath’s fingers pressed into her shoulders. “Come inside. You need to sit down.”
Zayd spoke up un tone quiet. “Give her a minute.”
But a minute wouldn’t change anything.
She had seen it all. The blood. The gun. The look in Shazal’s eyes before he walked away.
The way Adnan had smirked when he said, He’s not coming back.
And the worst part?
Somewhere deep inside her, she was terrified that he might be right.
And this was the last time she saw him.
They carried her inside, arms steady yet foreign, guiding her through the doorway like she was something fragile. Something breakable.
