Sisters torn apart by the fragility of the heart, how can love possibly hurt so much?
Hana Junaid decided two years ago, distance would make her younger sister Hanaan more independent but Hanaan's love and yearning for Hana during this time has drow...
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The girl in the mirror refuses to meet my eyes. Her cheeks are splotched red, her eyes are swollen and teary, her lips chewed raw and she's looking anywhere but at me. How do I tell her this pain inside her is ephemeral when it's only been growing so so much more?
It should have been me.
It should have been you, Hana but it wasn't, accept it. You didn't get that top position in the board, it was not meant to be yours and no matter what you would have done more or less, you would not have gotten it because it just wasn't meant for you—
My hand thrashes out at the marble countertop before me and I knock off the tumbler that holds our toothbrushes in it, the toothpaste tube flies across the bathroom along with it.
WHY was it not meant for me?
I smack the back of my hand at the soap dish so it goes slipping past by me too.
Am I that undeserving?
I throw the shampoo bottle at the wall across me and then grab the glass bottle of my perfume.
Am I worthless for you Allah?
My chest hitches as I struggle to draw in a breath, my teeth bite down on my lips even harder and I pull my arm back ready to smash the bottle at another wall when an animalistic cry escapes my lips and I fall to my knees, holding the perfume bottle to my chest.
Is this my punishment?
This pain pokes inside my chest like a dry branch spreading out in my lungs. I wanted this position so badly and then I did not get it. And then Faria got it! She did not even need it, she did not even desire it so desperately as I did! She did not even think of it when preparing for the exams then why Allah, why could you just not let me have it for once? To want something so strongly and then see someone else have it who does not even need it—
Is this how Nashwa feels regarding me and Ahmad Mamu?
I kick away the perfume bottle, everything in me is filled with hot red hate. My hands grasp the roots of my hair and I pull at them, holding in my hitched breathing, my chest heaving, uncontrollable sobs escaping my mouth, my entire body tremoring— there's no oxygen in my lungs, the branches in my chest stab at my heart and I clamp a hand tight over my mouth but the entirety of my grief and sorrow comes out in the form of hot searing tears and even louder hiccups and oh god, I hate myself. For everything. Everything.
I have failed at everything, what's there left for me to live for?
Picking up my broken shards, I stand up in my bathroom and splash cold water onto my face. Without drying it, I head out to the kitchen, ignoring Baano who is intelligent enough not to approach me in this state of fury I am in and I slice a large piece of last night's cake— the size of four good servings because why even bother with this weight loss when I'll fail at it too — and then I head back to my room, locking it after me. I'm still crying hysterically as I put spoon after spoon in my mouth, every bite of chocolate fudge and buttercream filling me with even greater hate and resentment for myself. Who cares if I'm fat? Who cares if I grow into my twenties with a hundred health issues? Who cares if I don't attract any good suitors for myself, who cares how I live, how I die, how I live undead through this pain?
