13 chapitres En cours d'écriture #239 6-10-25
Then I asked the question that burned me even then: "How did you know it was real love?"
His answer cut through years to find me now, on my knees in fire:
"When death terrifies you... not because it'll hurt, but because you might die before seeing her again. Before holding her. Before telling her she was enough. Before she knows you loved her more than your own breath. When your last thought isn't 'I'm dying,' but 'she won't know how much I loved her.' That's when you've crossed every line."
My Ayat... you were the only prayer I whispered without words... the only wound I loved wearing. I'm sorry. For everything I did. Everything I didn't do. For not loving you better... not loving you louder..."
My voice fell apart.
"And if there's something after this... I'll find you. Even there. Always."
But the fear clawed deeper: She'll never know the small things, the secrets I kept buried.
---
I love you, Zayyan!! her voice once screamed. And I smiled, stupid and young.
Never let me go... she'd whispered into my neck. And I'd sworn I wouldn't.
"You'll stay?" she murmured.
"I'll always stay," I promised. But I'm breaking that promise now...
I saw myself pluck a white flower, tucking it behind her ear, knuckles brushing her cheek.
"You look like you walked out of a fucking poem," I'd whispered.
She laughed. "You sound like a 90s hero."
"I'd be one," I'd said, voice softer, "just for you."