The second book in the 'Unconditionally' series.
They say we get over childhood crushes as we grow up.
But what if the childhood crush develops into something so deep that it's irrevocable?
I've read many stories, but only fictions have happy endin...
Another one by storiesbyzainab, this one dedicated to Miss Sameer. Thank you! 😍
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Hooriya
I helped the girl sit down on the sofa in the common area of the B&B after she broke down into tears. She set down her backpack on the floor beside her, and my eye caught the keychain that was swinging from the zip: a lion. It reminded me of the lioness keychain that Arsal had given me on my wedding day. I asked one of the staff to bring some water, before I sat down beside the young girl. Tahira Anwar. "This is going to sound like a very silly question, but are you okay?"
"I..." She hiccupped. "I didn't know where else to go. I know someone who lived around this area... the only one who had ever shown concern for me." She shook her head as a drop of tear slid down her cheek.
"Look, I know I'm a stranger, but sometimes it helps to talk to strangers as well. It's easier." I whispered. "If you want to talk, I'm here to listen." Dado had always promoted the concept of 'women supporting women'. The sad reality of life is that women suffer more, and if they find words of comfort from other women, it eases the burden in their heart a little bit.
"S-Sorry." She looked at me with an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to break down."
"Don't apologise. Cry if it helps you feel less overwhelmed." I reassured her. "Do you want to go up to your room?"
"I feel safe enough here. It's okay." She wiped her tears using the back of her hand.
The staff member returned with a bottle of mineral water and handed it over to Tahira, who thanked her gratefully.
I didn't want to press her, so I sat beside her wordlessly like a silent support.
TRIGGER WARNING: THE SCENE MENTIONS PHYSICAL ABUSE AND TALKS OF SELF-HARM
"I..." She began softly. "I lived with my mother, stepfather and half sister. I often felt neglected, like a discarded piece of furniture that gets tossed into the storage room. Not thrown out of the house, but not part of the house either. Not too long ago, I was forced to drop out of university. My mother started emotionally blackmailing me that I needed to stay home to help her out with the housework and her other daughter. I refused herself, but then..." Her voice broke. "Then she held a knife against her wrist until I promised to drop out."
My heart broke as I thought about her being raised in such an environment. I couldn't even imagine not having parental love.
"But now..." She put her hands on her face, sobbing hard.
