Amara stirred to the pale light of dawn seeping through the bedroom drapes, the gentle warmth of Daniel's arm across her waist. His first morning as her husband. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she stared at the ceiling, trying to concentrate on the details around her instead of the pain that lingered somewhere in her chest. It was as if she had gone to sleep in one life and woken up in another, bound to an unfamiliar future over which she had little control.
Daniel stirred beside her, moving closer, and his breath was warm against her shoulder. "Good morning, Mrs. Ikenna," he mumbled, still thick with sleep.
She turned to face him, smiling hard in the hope that it would also reflect in her eyes. "Good morning," she said softly. He leaned closer and kissed her cheek with a tenderness that filled her with guilt. She knew he loved her, but she could not love him as much as he did no matter how hard she tried. Her heart was like a locked room, emotions closed tight inside, beyond his reach.
They had spent the morning together unpacking the wedding gifts that filled their small apartment. Daniel was excited, and his eyes sparkled when he unwrapped each package as if it were a gift for him. He hailed a delicate tea set, marveling at the intricacy of its design. Amara couldn't help but smile, albeit for a moment. His joy brought her a transient sense of comfort and a warmth in his presence that nearly calmed her down. Nearly.
The longer daylight lasted, the more lost in thought Amara became. Her mind kept drifting into memories that she had tried to hide from. It was impossible for her to explain your sadness that had poured over her like a heavy fog refusing to lift. She was aware that Daniel felt it, He is very cognizant and compassionate, always looking at her with a tenderness that deepened her sense of guilt.
That night, as they rested in bed, Daniel turned to her, his eyes scanning her face. "Are you okay, Amara?" he asked kindly, his brow knitting with worry.
Amara's heart contracted. She wanted to comfort him, say something that could make him feel like she was really happy with him. "I'm fine," she whispered, pushing a smile. "Maybe I just got tired from all the wedding preparations."
He nodded, the softness in his look. "You have a good point. It was a grand day for both of us." He held her hand his, his thumb drawing soft circles on her skin. "I want you to know that far from now, I am here for you Amara. Whatever you need."
The genuineness of his voice was such that she almost could not bear it. She felt a lump in her throat and quickly turned away, lest he see the tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Daniel," she whispered, barely audible.
As he fell asleep next to her, Amara stayed awake, thinking about all the doubts and regrets she had. She should have been thankful. Daniel was a good man, well, kind of a man who loved her very much. Still, part of her heart remained unattached; it belonged to someone else whom she had left in the shadows of her past.
The days turned into weeks, and Amara drifted deeper into the currents of married life. She filled her days with chores, recipes, and efforts to turn their small apartment into a warm home. On the surface, she appeared no different from any other newlywed adjusting to the changes and challenges of sharing life with another person. However, her calm exterior masked a restless woman haunted by memories she could not escape.
She would notice Farida's stories once in a while and she remembered Farida who was the one to teach her, what it was like to be alive. She remembered how warm laughter of Farida was, how sparkly were her eyes while she was speaking about her dreams. The memories of that time seemed like forbidden treasures, locked up in a far corner of her mind that nobody had access to.
One evening, getting dinner ready, she found herself deep in thought, slicing vegetables almost automatically. She hardly registered when Daniel came into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
"Hey you seem a million miles away" he murmured, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.
Amara forced a smile and put the knife down. "Just thinking," she said, keeping her voice neutral on purpose.
He turned her to face him, his expression soft yet curious. "About what?"
She hesitated, the heaviness of her secrets bore on her. "Just… about the future, I think."
He smiled, and his eyes became bright. "Our future is going to be so great, Amara. We'll build a life together, memories, have kids..." His voice trailed off while watching her; the smile faded a little. "Unless it's not what you want?"
Her heart raced when she locked eyes with him, overwhelmed by the magnetism of his earnestness. She wanted to trust him, to believe that she could be the wife he deserved, the partner he had envisioned. Yet those words were so empty in her voice that she could not bear to look into his eyes.
"Of course, that's what I want," she said, even though it was far from the truth. She made herself look him in the eye. "It's just… it's much to assume, that's all."
He nodded as if her answer had satisfied him, yet a glimmer of uncertainty flashed in his eyes. When he released her to return to the table and arrange the plates, she felt a pang of guilt. She was lying to him, but she couldn't help him. She had made this choice, and now she had to live it, even if that meant hiding her true self underneath layers of lies and pretense.
He realized that weeks were going by like a flash, and to Amara he was slowly growing distant, both from Daniel and the life she once dreamt of. She tried to bury her emotions under this logic; she tried to convince herself that it was only a matter of getting used to the changes.
In one afternoon, she was in the living room looking at an old photo album and as she flipped through it a picture of herself with Farida caught her eye. The two of them were laughing, their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, and faces flushed with happiness. That day she could still remember clearly, that was among those few moments in her entire life when she felt entirely free, almost light as air, without any burdens or constraints.
The moment she looked at the photograph, longing surged in to fill her with a bittersweet ache. She missed Farida, missed the relationship they had shared, the feeling of communion which had often seemed to transcend words. More than that, however, she missed who she had been when and with Farida, a fearless woman in following desires, living full life unapologetically.
A teardrop slid down her cheek and she quickly wiped it off, embarrassed by her own weakness. She was decided to tell him herself, and for now on she has to live with it. But even though she tried very hard, the feeling that she somehow lost a part of herself didn't leave her completely, the faint gossamer of her heart that would never be complete again.
In that same night, under her cover as she slept next to Daniel, she discovered herself gazing at the ceiling, all sorts of thoughts agitated in her head which she could not quiet down. She felt imprisoned, stuck in the middle of a life path she had agreed to follow and the one she had abandoned. She knew she could not go back but it seemed to her that there was no light at the end of a dark tunnel, rather, no end at all.
Daniel stirred beside her, reaching out with his hand to brush her arm. "Are you awake?" he whispered, his voice tinged with worry.
The response was delayed as she pondered how to. She replied "Yes" with a soft tone, the voice almost above a whisper.
He turned to her, his gaze probing her features. "Amara, is something bothering you? You've been...a distant these past days."
A rush of guilt hit her because he deserved the truth, yet she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. "I'm just... adjusting, I guess," she said softly and refused to look at him.
He leaned forward and took her hand in his. "Amara, I want you to be happy. This is new for both of us, but it can work if we are honest with one another."
The sincerity in his voice made her feel more guilty only, and she had a lump forming in her throat. She wanted to tell him the truth, explain to him the secrets that she had buried within herself. However, the words that needed to be said were let free-trapped away, fear and shame being their shield.
"I know, Daniel," she said softly, forcing herself to hold his gaze. "I'll try."
He smiled, squeezing her hand lightly. "That's all I ask."
As he fell asleep beside her, Amara stayed awake, your head spinning with so many emotions. She couldn't go on living this lie, but shattering Daniel's heart shamed her. She had chosen this life and was now bound to it, for better or worse.
In the silence of night, she shut her eyes and willed herself to forget, to bury her longings once again beneath layers of duty and duty and pretense. But years were not days, weeks were not months, and she knew that the truth could not be hidden forever.
Nights were the battle where Amara's chaotic thoughts fought against the dull yet soothing routine of her new existence. While Daniel slept soundly beside her, she lay often staring into the dark, with the echoes of a life half embraced filling her mind.
One night, when the burden of her thoughts became unbearable, she got out of bed and quietly walked into the living room. The cool tiles under her feet ground her for a minute but did little to relieve the pressure in her chest as if she were shouldering some invisible burden. She sat on the couch and pulled a throw blanket over her shoulders, letting her head fall back.
The apartment was so quiet that it seemed if it were the end of the world, only a broken down refrigerator and the far city made any sound. She looked at a photo album, which she had put on the coffee table earlier that day. It was as if it was calling to her like a forbidden fruit, and despite herself, she reached for it, her fingers trembling as she flipped it open to the picture of her and Farida.
She ran her fingers along Farida's face, and the memory of her laughter rushed in like the light that had poured from her into any room. Amara could almost hear her voice, gentle yet playful with warmth: "Why so serious, Amara? You should live a little!"
She snapped the album shut as if that would end the longing in her heart. It was too late though; the feelings she had tried so hard to suppress were surging again, ready to break through. It was then that tears ran down her cheeks, quiet and relentless. She wrapped the blanket around herself more tightly as though it could protect her from the turmoil inside.
Her tears blurred the lines of past and present, what was and what could never be. She remembered Daniel, his kindness to her, his love, and the belief that he had turned their marriage into an auspicious beginning. Then she thought of herself, the falsehoods she was perpetuating, the heavy burden of expectations pressing down on her. How long could she maintain this charade before it all came tumbling down?
The sound of footsteps roused her, and she quickly wiped at her face to collect herself. Daniel stood in the doorway, his hair tousled from sleep, and squinting against the dim light.
"Amara? Are you all right?" he inquired, sounding quite apprehensive.
She nodded quickly, her voice faltering. "Yes…I just couldn't sleep."
He stepped closer, his eyes searching her face. "You've been crying," he said softly, as his voice was gentle yet assertive. "What happened?"