The Promises We Broke

20

Zeher loved Zaan.

Zaan had always made his hatred towards her obvious but that did nothing to deter her. In fact, she loved him more than she loved anyone else.

Maybe it was because her first word had been his name and how often he boasted about it.

Or maybe it was their shared love for reading. The way he would finish a book and couldn't sleep until he shared with someone the parts he loved most.

How he would obsess over a tiny detail and stay rooted in it for days before finding a new thing to obsess over. Zeher had only hoped one day she would become one of those obsessions.

And if that were asking too much, at least, he would find one part in her he would love so much that he would want to share it with the world.

And crazy as it was, every time she read a book, she knew he had already read, she felt closer to him.

Or maybe it was because how he would sometimes notice she didn't like the dishes and would offer to cook her something different.

It didn't matter if he was getting late for work or was too tired after dinner, what mattered was she wouldn't have to starve.

But none of that truly mattered. Love shouldn't be conditional. It should not come with reasons. And she hadn't loved him driven by his actions but because she wanted to.

Now, she no longer did.

He hated her? Good, let him. She hated him more. And no one was more well versed in it than her.

Finding it hard to breathe, she crashed down on the floor. Her mind fought for oxygen while her heart told her it was for the better.

But no, she couldn't die yet. Not until she unveiled the truth of 15 years ago. If she was going to be hated, she deserved to know why.

She did not want a half-remembered tragedy. She wanted to know the width of the knife and why it ruined her, name the organs it kissed.

She heard the door to her room open and careful footsteps approached her. Did she not even deserve to grieve in solidarity? Or was she not allowed to grieve at all?

"What happened, Zeher?" She heard Ehraan say.

Was he laughing at her? Or was he sad it wasn't him responsible for her devastated condition. That must be it. Her brothers always seemed to be competing among each other on who could hurt her the most.

Zaan was the uncrowned winner. Had been for years now.

"Zeher?"

Something in his voice urged her to look up. And she did. Instead of the mockery and satisfaction, she was only met with fear and unmasked concern.

"Fix it, please." The words spilled from her lips before she could stop them, desperate and vulnerable.

"Fix what?" he asked softly, kneeling beside her.

"Me."

Her voice cracked, and for a moment, she felt like a broken doll, discarded and forgotten, beyond repair.

"There's nothing to fix, Zeher." His words were tender. "You're perfect.

Lies. All lies. But why did the lie sound so good? Why did she pray to God that they would keep lying like this?

"Why do they hate me then?" She cried. "Why do you?"

Zaan had already answered her that. But it wasn't enough. That reason could not be enough.