She was a Mirage.

PART 3- Growing Up..

At the end of 9th grade I got a message from a friend in Jeddah who was still in school with Ayesha.
The message that shocked me and I started questioning many things in life.
Ayesha had been in an accident. At that moment all I wanted to do was run to the airport, board any plane and just go be with her the way she had always been with me.
I messaged her and called her after finding out the news. I didnt get any reply for a day or 2 but on the 3rd day I saw her name in my notifications, and dropped every other thing to read it.
Just like always, she was cracking jokes and making sure that I no more remained in my state of trauma. Once I kept the call, I realized there were tears on my cheeks.
They spoke of Ayesha's value in my life. Just like Ayesha always believed,
"You never know the value of something unless it is threatened to be pulled out of your grasp."

Throughout her entire time in the hospital and even once she returned home, we used to message and video call each other more regularly than normal.

When people around her were supposed to keep her happy and away from trauma and tension, she was the one brightening their lives, as always.
She never let anybody know when she felt broken down. Never complained once. Never spoke of the ill things happened to her. Never let anything bring her down. I would have never guessed that all the nights she stayed up; she might have spent crying about her situation only to be heard by the cold moonlit nights and the Almighty.

She updated me on most materialistic things in her life.
The paintings she did to save her mind from going crazy. The times people came to visit her and gave her the pity she hated. Watching her be the normal Ayesha she was, put my mind to peace.
When she re-joined school she was utterly excited. She was scared of not understanding anything and feeling out of place, but this was Ayesha we're talking about.She knew how to perfect something and worked hard at it.

By June, I got the news that we were visiting Jeddah for a vacation.
When I surprised her at her building's gate, I cried but she stayed smiling widely. The green eyes sparkling more or maybe they seemed like that to me because I was finally seeing them up close after a long time.

I was ecstatic. We spent the greatest time. Just like old times. Movie marathons, normal sarcasm, late night chats felt normal and amazing.

All of it felt perfect. That year she joined the basketball team, as one of the best players yet. Always the one scoring for the team. Playing like her life depended on it. Even though it didn't, she always worked hard because she had always wanted this opportunity. She was everyone's favorite just like it had always been. According to her, her 10th wasn't going very well. I also knew it wouldn't be wrong of me to assume that she would work hard and get whatever marks she wanted. The both of us drowned in our own worlds but when we talked it became like a routine to calm each other and then make each other laugh. That was the job of best friends, she regularly reminded me. Of course most of the calming was being down by her.
As I had assumed, she passed her exams as top of class and I did pretty well too.
If not so far away from each other, we would have celebrated with the traditional joint family dinners then movie night but situations weren't in our hands.
11th rolled around and unlike others in our grade, she stayed at the top of her class ,almost like magic. We knew she worked hard, she always said that she can do more.
Worst part (for others) was that she was naturally intelligent and liked gaining knowledge (even about random weird things)

Somehow I managed to score 11th (while she flee through it) and moved on to 12th.
The final year of school. The year we left school and moved on with lives. The school won the basketball interschool tournament for the 3rd time in its history , all because of the star player.
To the outer eye, her life seemed perfect.
Ha! I say outer eye as if I wasn't fooled.

We all were, by the perfect life act she put up in front of us.
In many materialistic achievements, her life pretty much ticked all boxes. Loving family and friends, great at studies, sports and talented at all forms of art. Teachers adored her and everyone was attracted to her light the way moth is to flames. People had fan clubs at school for her. I still remember every time they would get excited over her she would shake her head with the softest most humble smile at her lips. Like none of this made sense to her.
Just like that we kept growing up. Started facing challenges. Losing some battles and winning others.
Soon enough it was time to get into universities. Ayesha knew what she wanted to become. The pictures that sat in her flash drive and the poetry I had read spoke loud enough that whatever she would do, her control over words was too good to be true. She was perfect to become an editor at any newspaper. Her photography was an added talent. It came as no surprise to me when she said she got accepted at Brooklyn University to pursue her dream of being able to speak her thoughts for the world.

At the start of  12th grade, I remember she called me like every other night and we talked for a while. She seemed more happy than normal and I hadn’t asked her why. Before she ended the call, I voiced my concern for her mental health and she laughed it off and said,
“Addy my blog reached a100, 000 subscribers.”

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