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 cafeteria was buzzing with students, their voices blending into a constant hum that filled every empty space between the tables scattered across the hall.
Orders were being called from behind the counter, names shouted over one another, chairs scraping against the floor as people came and went. Laughter erupted from different corners, occasionally followed by playful arguments and loud banter.
Amid all the noise, Yusra sat at one of the benches with her phone propped lazily against the edge of the table. Both her hands were occupied with the screen, her fingers moving absentmindedly as she waited.
The screech of a chair being pulled out caught her attention. She lifted her head, ready to complain about the noise, but the irritation vanished the moment she saw who had taken the seat.
Her lips immediately curved into a smile.
"Wow! You look so cool with that..." she began, her eyes travelling toward the object hanging around her friend's neck. She paused, trying to remember the word. "What was it called again?"
"Stethoscope," Zumar supplied with a small smile as she placed her bag beside her and removed it from around her neck.
"Yeah, stethoscope." Yusra's eyes remained fixed on it. Before Zumar could say anything, she had already reached across the table and taken it from her hand. She placed the earpieces against her ears and pressed the chest piece against herself dramatically. "How do I look?"
"Perfect," Zumar said, smiling at her enthusiasm.
"How's med school treating you, Zumar?" Yusra asked, her eyes widening with genuine curiosity.
"It's good..." Zumar paused, her fingers brushing over the edge of the table. "I think it's the only good thing with me right now."
The brightness in Yusra's expression faded slightly."What about your father?" she asked gently.
She wanted her friend to talk. She wanted to hear the Zumar she had known before-the one who would tell her everything, sometimes without even being asked. But that girl seemed to have gone quiet somewhere along the way. The light in Zumar's eyes had dimmed, and every time Yusra noticed it, something inside her hurt.
Before either of them could say anything more, a voice came from behind the counter.
"Order for Mickey and Goofy!"
Several heads turned simultaneously, curious about whoever had chosen such ridiculous names.
Yusra looked toward the counter and laughed under her breath. Zumar shook her head and stood to collect their tray.
As she walked away, something warm settled inside Yusra's chest. She wasn't the only one trying to find a way back to what their friendship had once been. Zumar was trying too, even if neither of them knew exactly how to repair something that had been broken for so long.
