I never had it easy.
From watching my parents succumb to the horrors of a car accident to craving the healing presence of the man I love-my entire life-I had navigated through this messy maze I call my life with a shard of hope in my heart.
Every da...
This one is all about Maliha and Saboor, and truth be told, I just LOVE writing Maliha's scenes so much!! They just hit on a different level. She might just be my favorite character in the whole book. Vote, comment, and enjoy! :D
Chapter 33 | Colossal
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Maliha swiped her hands under her cheeks and squared her shoulders, but even the failed effort of putting up a show of courage and strength would not put a stop to the grief that kept pouring out of her eyes.
She stretched her lips into a smile, but the mere action caused an ache to blossom over her face. Her heart sank deeper and deeper, and sitting on her bed alone in her room with no signs of emotional or physical support, she saw herself crumble.
It was not just about how Fardeen had stolen the leftover cupcakes Maliha had reserved and hidden for herself in the refrigerator.
It was about how neither her mother nor her father had told him off for it and instead their supposed silence had been his enabler to continue to breach on her rights as if she didn't have any.
They say that when a ship is already on the brink of sinking and just a tiny more weight is added to it, it is as good as gone. And so was Maliha, because she had already piled up, endured, forgiven, understood, resorted to patience on far too much for her to continue to do it.
How long would she be made to live the life she was being dragged through, day after day? How long would she have to keep forgiving and forgetting? How long would she have to put up fronts on fronts of contentment and security, when both of those were a dream, an illusion, so far from reality?
Maliha had so deeply recoiled within herself that even her mother's approaching figure didn't faze her.
Sitara stepped through to Maliha's room, and her questioning glare faded into blankness. The spite that Maliha had been gulping down, in the back of her throat, rose up again, blazing in her eyes.
Sitara crossed her arms. "You do realize if all of us middle-class folks sat down to cry about our problems instead of actively working to solve them, we'd still be at square one."
Maliha willed herself to get on her feet and hide her trembling heart within herself. "Do you not feel anything for me? Not even an ounce of love, care, affection, anything at all?"
A shadow passed over Sitara's face. "I came here to ask you about dinner. How far along is it?"
Don't collapse. Don't collapse. "Mama, I'm your daughter. You birthed me. I'm literally a part of you. And I'm sitting here alone, crying myself to death and you just don't care?"
