Her first instinct was to deny it, just as she always did by burying her feelings. However, there was something in his look that she couldn't ignore, a flicker of worry and love that made guilt tighten its grip on her chest. She opened her mouth to speak but there was not any word to say. It was impossible for her to tell him as to why she cried since the tears were not directed at him but at some part of herself that could not be disclosed.
"I…I'm just overwhelmed," she whispered finally, her voice breaking. "There's so much you need to get used to."
He crouched beside her, touching her knees with his hands. "Amara, you don't have to do this alone. Whatever you're feeling, it's okay to tell me. We're partners, right?"
The truth of his words sent a pang to her chest, and for one moment she thought of revealing it all to him, about Farida, about her doubts, about the parts of herself she had hidden away. But fear kept her silent, the fear of losing him, of being exposed as a failure, of disappointing everyone who had celebrated their marriage. So she nodded instead and offered him a faint smile.
"Thank you, Daniel," she murmured. "I'll try."
He hugged her, his arms wrapped around her. The gesture was of warm embrace, like he cared for her, however it only increased the emptiness in her inside. So badly did she want to be the woman she knew he thought she was, but as she dug deep within herself she realized that it was all a lie, a lie that would one day come down on them.
As Daniel climbed back into bed, Amara remained on the sofa, going through the photo album once again. She ran her fingers across the cover, and her thoughts raced with things she could not quiet. She knew that the life she had chosen was safe, secure, and predictable but also knew that it was slowly suffocating her by drawing her further away from the person she was meant to be.
The first fissures in her facade had begun to crackle, and she could feel them growing in nearly every moment. She had made her decision, but for the first time she wondered if it was a choice she could live with.
Three months have passed since she married Daniel and the tightening of her chest that she hoped would dissipate with time seems to worsen.
The morning started out like any other. Daniel left early, kissing her forehead before he grabbed his briefcase. "Don't forget, we're having dinner with my parents tonight," he said, smiling as though he couldn't see the flicker of fear it put in her eyes.
"I remember," she replied, her voice steady.
When the door clicked shut behind him, Amara breathed out and leaned against the wall. The silence of the apartment was just too relieving and yet too cursed, giving her a reprieve from pretending but also amplifying all those thoughts she was trying so hard to suppress.
She spent the day cleaning the house, preparing food, and trying to keep your up strictly on the day-to-day chores that comprised her new life. But however much she tried, she couldn't help but think of Farida, the life she had left behind, and the widening gap between herself and Daniel.
By evening, Amara was dressed and ready to go for dinner with Daniel's parents. A small floral dress had been chosen for its simplicity, so it was modest. She stood in front of the mirror, combing her hair and trying to smile when that seemed almost an alien expression on her face. She wanted to be there, wanted to be the wife that Daniel deserved, but the efforts of masquerading were draining her more with each passing day.
The journey to his parents' house was punctuated with small talk-Daniel sharing a humorous incident from work, Amara agreeing with nods and polite laughter. As they parked outside the house, he reached across to squeeze her hand. "You're quiet tonight," he said, lightheartedly but somewhat probing.
"I'm just tired," she replied quickly.
Daniel frowned but did not insist. "Well, they're really excited to see you. Just be yourself, Amara. They already love you."
The night flew by as they all talked and laughed, yet Amara could not help but feel like an outsider. Daniel's parents were very friendly and made her feel at home, you could see the love they had for him in the way they treated him. She saw herself envying their comfort levels, their love for each other with no complexities.
"Amara," Daniel's mother said, pulling her back to the present. "Have you guys talked about having kids yet?"
Amara's heart missed a beat; she was sure Daniel was looking at her. She smiled even though her hands were sweating, and said, "We're just taking things one step at a time," deflecting the question.
"Don't take too long, OK?" his dad added. "We could use some little feet scampering about soon."
Daniel laughed, but Amara felt the burden of their expectations pressing on her. The drive home was quiet Daniel looked at her every now and then but and never spoke a word.
Later that night, when they were in bed, Daniel spoke finally. "Amara, are you happy?" he asked softly.
The question caught her off guard. For a moment, she did not know how to respond. She lay staring at the ceiling, her heart racing. "Of course I am," she replied, voicing just above a whisper.
Yet, even as she articulated them, she knew that the words she used would fail to convey what she felt.
"Maybe, at times you feel like you are not even here," he went on, his voice charged with sorrow. "I don't know if it's something that I am not handling well or if"
"No, Daniel," she cut in, turning her body to face him. "It's not you. You've done no harm by being kind and loving to me. I'm just… adjusting."
He studied her for a long moment before nodding. "If there's ever anything you need to tell me, I hope you know you can."
She smiled through the pain, her hand stretching out to give his a squeeze. "I know. Thank you." For a moment as he started to sleep, Amara felt a guilt so sharp she could hardly breathe. She was perfectly aware that she told lies, not only to him but to herself too.
The next week, Amara was in the local market and found herself looking for some fresh vegetables. She walked around the busy stalls where their banter of colors and live chats distracted her for a while. But then she saw her, a face from the past or rather one she had not expected to see again.
Farida.
Amara froze, unable to breathe for a moment. Farida stood by the stall, laughing while haggling with the vendor. She looked exactly as Amara remembered, confident, radiant, and unapologetically herself.
For a second, Amara thought she could turn back and walk away, as though she hadn't seen her. But something inside wouldn't let her move. Before she could reconsider, Farida turned around and their eyes locked in the bustling market.
"Amara?" Farida's voice carried the astonishment and and disbelief subtlety.
Amara smiled forcibly, but her heart was racing. "Farida. It's been ages."
Farida smiled wider and closed the distance between them, embracing Amara in a warm hug. The closeness of her touch was comforting and yet agonizing, stirring feelings that Amara had buried deep within herself.
"What are you doing here?" Farida inquired, keeping the pitch light yet inquisitive.
"I live close by," Amara said, her voice clear even though chaos reigned in her head.
The conversation was short, but it was rich in courteous greetings and superficial talk. However, as Farida walked away, the earth shifted beneath Amara's feet. Seeing her again had stirred up something that long ago she had buried, a part of herself she had tried to forget.
That night, even in bed, she couldn't stop thinking about Farida's face. The meeting had been short but provoked a whirlwind of manageable emotions. For the first time, she questioned the life that she had chosen, the sacrifices that she had made to please others.
She glanced at Daniel, who was quietly sleeping next to her, and felt a twinge of guilt. He deserved the truth; he deserved a wife who could really love him. Amara didn't think she could be that person.
The cracks were widening in the facade that she had so carefully built and knew it was just a matter of time before it all crashed down.