Unexpected Love [GXG]

Chapter 45: I'm Trying

POV: ENID

I wake up like I've been crying in my sleep.

My chest feels tight, like I've been holding my breath all night and only just remembered how to inhale.

The ceiling above me is unfamiliar for a second- the pale curtains, the faint smell of lavender detergent-before everything from yesterday rushes back in at once.

The prayer.
The confession.
The truth I said out loud to God and couldn't take back.

My eyes sting.
I turn my face into the pillow and count to five.

Then ten.
Then twenty.
Nothing eases.

Eventually, the house stirs.
A door creaks.
Footsteps.
Life continuing, inconsiderate and normal.

I push myself up.

My body feels heavy, like grief has weight and it settled into my bones overnight.

I drag myself out of bed and pad down the hall to Hamida's room.

She's sprawled sideways on the bed, one leg hanging off, curls everywhere.
Peaceful.

Untouched by the war inside me.

"Mida," I whisper, brushing her shoulder gently. "Habibti. Time to wake up."

She groans, rolling over.
"Five more minutes."

"You said that yesterday," I murmur.

"That was yesterday," she says sleepily. "Today is today."

Despite myself, a small smile tugs at my lips.

I sit on the edge of the bed and smooth her hair back. She blinks up at me, then her eyes sharpen.
"Nini?" she asks quietly.

"Yes?"

"You look tired."
Of course she notices. She's so smart for her age.

"I didn't sleep well," I say.
It's not a lie.

She sits up and leans into me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
It's tighter than usual.

Longer.

Like she's holding on for a reason she doesn't have words for.

I close my eyes and hug her back.
"I love you," she mumbles into my shirt.

"I love you more," I whisper, pressing a kiss to her hair.

The morning routine moves on autopilot after that.

Wudu. (Ablution. Washing of certain body parts to Purify yourself before prayers)

Prayer mats rolled out.
Standing side by side like we always do.

But it feels... hollow.

I go through the motions, my body remembering what my heart can't seem to reach anymore.

My forehead touches the mat, but my thoughts drift.

My lips form words my chest doesn't echo.

When I finish, I stay seated longer than usual, hands resting limply in my lap.

Something is missing.

Or maybe something has shifted.

Hamida glances at me but doesn't say anything this time. She just folds her mat neatly and goes to change.

I dress for school in silence.
Neutral colors.
Long sleeves.
Safe choices.

Armor.

By the time we're ready, the sun is fully up, spilling light into the hallway like nothing inside me is breaking.