Kamil
Hurt was getting overly familiar with my heart. It seemed to be all I got acquainted with lately. I stared at the wedding invitation card in my palm, wishing it was all a bad dream.
But the shiny diamond in my other hand was a harsh slap in my face each time I looked at it.
Fatima.
She had been my waking thought for a year now, and her face, eyes, and smile, were still freshly imprinted in my memory.
It seemed like the start to a beautiful love story. And it would have been, if she wasn't getting married in a week.
Fatima had been everything to me, and for a long while, I thought I meant the world to her.
I love you, K.
She said she loved me, and yet was set to marry someone in less than a week.
I might not have been the most knowledgeable on matters of the heart, but I definitely could smell a heart broken with lies when within range.
And my heart was reeking.
YOU ARE READING
The Scars We Don't See✓
Short StoryAnd voices we don't hear. Boys cry too. Trigger warning: Depression, self-harm, suicide.