Why Do Tears Keep Falling

Hope

People face choices every moment of their lives. All those various choices come together to make their lives better.

Nourhan

It's been a week since my encounter with Yazid and my slip of the tongue. He didn't budge me to tell him my story, knowing that I would not, and I've been avoiding him, which he keeps playing along with, and I'm glad for that.

I get ready as I exit the house to run an errand. After fifteen minutes of walking on foot, I arrived at my destination, and as always, the place was crowded with people.

I'm still learning, or, should I say, pushing myself to mingle and interact with people, but as always, it's difficult.

Everything in my life is hard, and I wonder when I will be able to live like a normal person and do the things normal people do.

The setting sun casts a golden glow over the market in Manama. The air was thick with the smell of spices, and the sound of vendors hawking their wares filled the air. The heat of the day was beginning to fade, and a cool breeze swept through the market.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the stars began to appear in the darkening sky.

A sense of calm and peace settled over the market, and the people who remained began to pack up their stalls for the night. It was a moment of quiet before the busyness of the next day began.

In the distance, the call to prayer sounded from the nearby mosque. As the muezzin's voice filled the air, a few people stopped what they were doing to pray. Others continued about their business but with a new sense of purpose and reverence.

In the stillness of the night, it seemed as though the entire city was coming together in prayer and reflection. The market may have been winding down, but the city of Manama was still very much alive.

I looked at the paper in my hand, giving it a last glance before I hurriedly went to get the items on the paper. I'm familiar with this market, so I don't have much trouble locating the shop.

I meet the shop filled with customers lined up waiting for their turn. I joined the line close to some women whose voices rose and fell, weaving together a tapestry of words as they gossiped about the refugees who had been left to fend for themselves at the market.

The moment I heard refuge, my heart skipped a beat, and I strained to hear every word, hoping against hope that I might hear something about Maha.

Suddenly, I heard one of the women mention a name that sounded familiar. I held my breath, listening more intently. Was it possible that my sister was really here?

The women's voices continued, and my heart pounded in my chest. I had to find out the truth. I had to go and see if Maha was there or not.

Without thinking, I moved closer and began to make my way towards the group of women. My heart was racing as I approached them, my steps growing quicker and quicker.

As I got closer, I could hear the women's conversation more clearly.

They were talking about a girl who had arrived at the market that day, alone and scared. I felt a surge of hope as I heard the girl's name mentioned.