Muazam has always been different from his family. His mindset never matched theirs, even from childhood. As far as I know, I've never seen him agree with them on anything. He always comes from the opposite direction, standing by his own words and beliefs.
He had always been straightforward and liked to keep things clear. He couldn't tolerate lies or dishonesty. He would say everything directly to your face, no matter how bitter the truth was. He never feared anyone and was always quick-witted, as if the response was sitting right on the tip of his tongue. He didn't care about who was older or younger, he just spoke the truth and what was right, even if it set the other person on fire—he couldn't care less. It was just his nature. Because of this, he had been badly beaten by his older sister several times.
My uncle built a strong image in front of everyone, including his own children. He gave them a solid foundation, making sure that no one would dare to speak ill of him, whether behind his back or in front of anyone, especially his children. He created a sense of respect around them, almost like a shield.
On the other hand, my father is the opposite. He does everything for others, even cracking jokes about his own children to entertain the family. People often take my father for granted because of his lighthearted nature, but he's always sweet and polite to everyone.
Even though Muazam is the second youngest, he's always been given way too much freedom by his father—more than his siblings. From childhood, Muazam was spoiled by his father—he was the apple of his father's eye. I remember whenever we cousins made plans for an outing, his siblings would always hide behind him. They would push him to ask their father for permission and money, and because of him, they always got to come with us.
He has some kind of authority, thanks to his father, and he's the only one who could make his father change his mind.
My uncle, by relation, is the elder in our family, and not just because of his age, so everyone has a certain respect for him, along with a hint of fear. I could always see it in people's faces when they talked to him.
As a child, I really admired his personality. He always looked confident, holding his head high. Even though he and my father are close relatives and around the same age, they couldn't be more different. My father is soft and kind, at least with everyone else, but my uncle is cold and serious. Ironically, his kids admired my father, while I used to admire him.
And that's exactly what Muazam inherited from his father — the way he always holds his head high and walks around confidently. No matter if there are any flaws, he somehow manages to turn them to his advantage, pretending as if they don't exist.
Since childhood, I've always been different, living in my own world. I never formed close relationships with my relatives or family members, keeping my distance, creating space between myself and everyone else, including my family. However, I was inspired by Muazam's father's personality.
Muazam and I share many similarities, so much so that I sometimes think he's my male version. It's why I don't feel we're a good match for a lifelong partnership—because we're almost the same. Maybe that's also why I understand him so well, even though I wasn't around much during his childhood.
Growing up, our homes were far apart, so we only met during family gatherings. But whenever we did, we made memories—some funny and embarrassing, others emotional and beautiful. I still remember that our front teeth fell out at the same time—when I was missing mine, he was missing his too.
I still remember when Muazam gave me a heart-shaped plastic ring when I were 13. It came with a toy necklace, the kind you'd find on Barbie dolls, and he sent them to me through his sister. He had found the ring on the road—funny, right? At the time, I used to wonder what made him pick it up for me. Did he think of me while finding it? But what mattered most to me was the effort behind it. It was all in good fun, just a gesture of friendship, with no other intentions. I kept them for a while, but being so young, I didn't know how to hold on to things, and eventually, I lost them.
There's a bunch of memories—some have faded, but others are still stored somewhere deep in my mind. Whenever those memories resurface, they bring a smile to my face, and I feel a sense of happiness. It's funny how small, seemingly insignificant moments can have such an impact, even after all these years. Those little things, like the ring, the laughter, and the shared times, still linger, and they make me feel connected to a part of myself I sometimes forget about.
I used to think that if the idea of our marriage had never come up, we could have remained the best of friends. There wouldn't have been any of this tension or confusion between us—just the fun, the laughter, and the shared memories. Maybe we would've been closer in a way that felt simple and light, without all the heaviness that comes with expectations. It's strange how things can change when certain ideas are planted, altering the course of everything that once felt so easy and pure.
But now, I find myself in love with him, and the hardest part is knowing that it wasn't entirely my choice to fall for him—I was pushed into it. It wasn't something that blossomed naturally; it was a love that was forced on me through constant pressure, whispers, and expectations. I wonder if I would have felt this way if things had been different, if I hadn't been subtly steered in this direction. Now, I'm left to sort through these complicated feelings, unsure if they're truly mine or just a result of everyone else's desires.
I wonder if he even knows, if he ever notices the quiet longing I carry. But then, how could he?