Amara's encounter with Farida lingered on, lingering in her thoughts well after the market. She kept replaying their short conversation in her head, the warmth of Farida's voice, the casual ease of her smile, the familiarity in her eyes. As if no time had passed and yet everything had changed. Amara's life was unrecognizable, a carefully curated facade that seemed to crumble a little more with each passing day.
The next morning, when she woke up, Daniel was already gone. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling with her thoughts all jumbled. The sunlight shinning through the curtains seemed harsh, intrusive almost as if it were exposing the flaws in the life she had tried to maintain.
At last she had dragged herself from bed, and was now going through her morning routine half absent. But as she stood there in the kitchen, drinking coffee, it came to her that she could not spend the whole day in the apartment. The walls bordered her too much, the silence was too noisy.
It was in the library she decided to visit, a place she hasn't been to, since before her wedding. It was one of her best places; a sanctuary whereby she could lose herself in books and evade the chaos of her thoughts.
The library was quiet, as it always was, the soft rustle of pages and the faint hum of the air conditioning being the only sounds that could be heard. Amara strolled up and down the aisles, her hands gently caressing book spines on their way. She stopped at fiction shelves; her eyes scanning until she came across one, The Price For Silence.
She took the book from the shelf, and her fingers caressed the letters on the spine as she did so. It almost felt too right, almost like a reflection of her own life. She brought the book to a reading nook by the window and sank into one of the large armchairs.
The story captivated her from the very first page, a struggle with hidden truths and sacrifices that struck so close to home. Reading on brought tears to Amara; her emotions were finally rising after such a long time of hiding her real self to conform to the mold created by her family, society, and even Daniel. But at what price?
The tear on her face slipped and she quickly wiped it, checking around if anyone saw. She felt like everybody could see her and the last thing you knew was the part that peeled the layers which weren't there.
Upon her return that evening, she found Daniel in the living room waiting for her and his face lit up when she walked through the door.
"Hello," he said, rising to greet her. "Where have you been the whole day?"
"I went to the library," she replied and put her bag down.
Daniel smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's good because I've been really getting worried about you. You have been much more distant than usual."
Amara forced a smile, guilt twisting in her chest. "I'm fine, Daniel. Really."
She instinctively knew that the words she was saying were not right, even as she said them
Over the next few days, Amara tried to escape everything and keep herself busy with work. She cleaned the house, went out for errands, and cooked rich meals for Daniel, expecting that keeping herself busy would help her overcome those disturbing thoughts. But no matter how hard she tried, the recollection of Farida would not leave her alone; it was always there in her head.
One day in the afternoon, while sorting through old papers she found a small notebook that for some years she did not see. It was one of her journals, many pages include entries from that time when she has been more honest with herself.
She hesitated for a while but later pulled out her notebook and upon seeing the familiar handwriting she smiled. The entries were direct, unedited, a great difference to who she was now; she is the one that presents herself to the world in a nicely edited way.
One entry in particular caught her attention:
"I think about her all the time. She makes me feel more alive than anything else ever has. But that's wrong, isn't it? To think like this? Everybody says so. God says so. But if it's so wrong, how come it feels so right?"
Amara's breath caught in her throat at the sight of those words. It was as if her younger self had reached out through the pages to remind her of who she had been before fear took control of her life. She closed the journal, trembling hands.
That evening, Daniel sensed her mood. He sat at the dinner table while the meal she had cooked sat mostly uneaten on her plate.
"Amara," he said softly, putting down his fork. "Talk to me. Please."
She looked up at him and her heart sank to the expression of worry written on his face. She wanted to explain everything, to free herself from the secrets that were choking her little by little. Still, she could not find the words.
"I'm just tired," she said finally.
Daniel reached across the table and took her hand. "I know it's not been easy for you, adjusting to marriage and leaving your old life behind, that's a lot. But I'm here for you, Amara. Whatever you're going through, we can face it together."
She nodded, a smile touched her lips but there was no warmth in her eyes. "Thanks for everything Daniel, I will be fine."
But when she uttered the words, she felt the lie heavily on her.
After a few days, Amara felt herself in the market again, her eyes mapping the crowd almost instinctively. She was not quite clear if she wanted to see Farida again or if she was trying to avoid her.
But fate had other plans; Farida emerged, her laughter slicing through the market's cacophony. A heart skipped a beat in Amara when their eyes locked.
"Amara," said Farida, smiling broader as she got closer. "We meet again."
"Farida," Amara replied, her voice steady though something was stirring in her gut.
The two women soon got into conversation, their tongues flowed fast despite the years that had elapsed.
Farida inquired about Amara's life, her marriage, and her future plans. Vague answers were the order of the day from Amara, who did not care to give away too much.
"You seem…different," Farida said after a while, her tone soft but curious.
"How so?" Amara asked, her pulse quickening.
Farida hesitated, then smiled. "I don't know. You just seem... distant. Like part of you is somewhere else."
Amara was unsure of what to say, so she just nodded forcing a weak smile.
Before parting ways, Farida touched Amara's arm. "You know how to reach me if you ever need to talk."
Amara nodded again, her throat tight with unshed tears.
---
During that night while on bed, Amara ran through the conversation in her mind again and again. Farida's words had awakened something deep inside her and now she was engulfed with emotions she had fought so hard to keep at bay. She felt as though she was just on the edge of a cliff, balancing between the life she had chosen for herself and the life she now knew she wanted to lead.
Daniel stirred next to her, his arm over her waist. The warmth and comfort of the gesture stirred the ache inside her even more. She wanted so desperately to be the woman he thought she was, but she knew all too well that she was living a lie.
By closing her eyes, she was trying to sleep. But what went on in her mind was a hurricane of thoughts and emotions, the cracks in her facade getting wider day by day.
The turning point was a week later. Amara was tidying up the apartment when she accidentally tripped over a framed picture of herself and Daniel. The glass shattered, scattered all over the floor.
As she knelt to gather the fragments, her reflection shard caught her eye. She looked at herself in the broken glass, and the warped image was right on how she felt inside.
She sat back on her heels, crying profusely as the turmoil of her feelings finally caught up with her. She thought about Farida, about Daniel, the life that she had chosen, and the life that she had left behind.
She was doing it for the first time. She was allowing herself to feel deeply, her pain, her longing, her guilt. She wept until she ran out of tears, her body being wracked by the force of her sobs.
Eventually, when she was able to control herself, she came to look at the shattered pieces on the floor and noticed something. She had to come to the conclusion that it was impossible for her to continue living in this manner; having one foot in each of two worlds, being caught in a life that did not even remotely resemble her own.
She did not know what was coming up ahead but deep down she knew that she could not feign any longer.
Now as Daniel walked through the door that evening, he could observe it on her right away- not the redness in her eyes neither the tension of her posture.
"Amara," he said, his voice filled with concern. "What's wrong?"
She did meet his gaze, and her heart ached at the fear chiseled on his face. She wanted to reveal it all to him, to come clean of the burdensome secrets she had for too long.
But the minute she was about to open her mouth and speak, the words stuck in her throat. She didn't feel she was there, not just yet.
Instead of shaking her head, she smiled weakly at him. "I'm fine, Daniel. Today was just not my day."
Daniel wrapped her in his embrace, his warmth surrounding her. Amara leaned into him, letting the comfort of his presence wash over her. This was not the kind of comfort that resolved issues; it was a momentary balm for her bruised feelings. She shut her eyes, breathed deeply, and focused on calming your nerves.
"Are you sure you are okay?" Daniel asked in a soft tone, touched by the fear of his voice. "You look so different these days."
Amara pulled back and forced a smile while avoiding his gaze. "I'm fine, Daniel. Just tired, that's all. I think I've been overthinking everything lately."
For a moment, he ran his eyes over her, as if he would read in her face the truth. Then he nodded, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "So, if anything you ever want to say, I'm here Amara. It's not just for saying."
She nodded, the weight of his kindness crushing down on her chest. "I know," she whispered in response to his statement. "Thank you for saving me."
It was later in the evening after dinner that Amara sought solace in the small balcony off their living room. The night air was cool but friendly, it carried with it a hint of rain. She sat on one of the old wicker chairs Daniel had insisted on keeping, her thoughts ran wild as she gazed outside at the city lights.
The past that she had tried so hard to suppress kept coming back into her thoughts. Farida's face came to her again, the smile, the eyes dancing when she spoke. Then Daniel came, with his love that was always there and his steady presence. Amara felt as if she were being torn between two opposite forces, each tug leaving her more fragmented than before.
For years, she had convinced herself that choosing Daniel and this life was the right decision. It had silenced the doubts, pacified her family, and satisfied her conscience, at least for a while. But now it was clear that sacrifice came with a price she had not fully realized until now: her own identity.
While the city sighed softly below, Amara clicked on her phone and paused for a moment before reaching out to Farida on social media. Her pulse raced when she found Farida's profile. It was public, populated with pictures of travels, friends, and moments that seemed to be untouched and full of happiness.
One photo stood out for Amara, a picture of Farida by the ocean, sun glinting off the water behind her. She looked beautiful, her face openly and freely as if Amara had never felt before.
Amra's chest tightened with a wave of longing. She wanted to reach out and reconnect as friends again, but fear had her frozen. What would Farida think of her now? Could she even explain the version of herself that she had become?
By the time Amara returned inside, Daniel had already fallen asleep. She got into bed beside him but couldn't silence her thoughts. She lay there staring up at the ceiling, crushed by her conflicting feelings. Finally, she reached for the journal she'd only recently found again a few days before. In the soft glow of her bedside lamp, she began to write, her pen flying over the pages.
"She made me feel like I was living someone else's life. The expectations people had of her were suffocating the real her. Farida had provoked a feeling that he could not pretend to ignore. Seeing her again had awakened something within him that he thought he had buried long ago. The fact was, he missed her. He missed the person she made him when they were together. And now, he was scared of what that meant."
The expression flowed from her, naked and unprocessed. When she finally closed the journal, her hand ached from the insistent scribbling but had not even begun to relieve her burden. The next morning Amara woke up anxious. Daniel was already out for work and the apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge. She sat at the kitchen table watching her coffee grow cold while staring at her phone.
It was as if she knew that she would overthink it and just then opened the messaging app and in a jiffy typed a message to Farida. "Hi Farida, that was so nice to see you again other day. If you're free I'd love to catch up sometime . Let me know."
She hesitated, her finger hovering over the send button. Her heart raced with the consequences that could follow. Yet something within her-the same voice that had become increasingly insistent day after day-recommended sending the message.
So she did, and so on. She then dropped her gaze to the screen that displayed the message, her stomach tying in a not. She didn't know what she expected, or even what she wanted. All she knew was that she couldn't continue living like this, caught in a loop of denial and regret.
Moments later, her phone buzzed with a reply.
"Amara! I'd love that. How about tomorrow afternoon? Let me know what works for you."
Amara's chest tightened reading the text. Excitement and fear both combined to form a rush in her veins. She hadn't thought this far, had not thought of what she would speak or how she would explain herself. But it did not matter.
For the first time in years, she felt a tingle of something that was impossible to name, perhaps hope or maybe even courage.
She replied fast, consent to meet with Farida the following day. As she threw her phone down, she felt that she had taken a little yet significant step toward something that she could not fully define.
What she didn't know was that right now was just the turn of the page, the first line in a chapter that would soon bring her to face all those things she had spent so long avoiding.
And, whether or not it was better or worse, her life was going to be different forever.