I sat on the edge of my bed, my books spread open before me, though I hadn’t read a single word in the last half hour. My mind was elsewhere — on the voices I’d overheard earlier, Nargis dropping hints, Maarya repeating them like bad news carried on the wind.
Marriage. Future.
I leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling fan turning slowly overhead. My friends at university talk about love all the time. Their boyfriends, their late-night calls, their heartbreaks and promises. I could have that too. If I wanted a boy to text me under the table, to whisper words that feel sweet in the moment.
But I know better.
I can have a boyfriend if I really wanted — it isn’t that hard. But to what end? Relationships never last. Love is nothing but a myth we like to wrap ourselves in to avoid the cold truth: that compromise is the real foundation of marriage. One person bends, the other pretends to. And in the end, both are left holding pieces of themselves they can never fit back together.
I’ve seen it in Maarya’s tired eyes when she thinks no one’s looking. I’ve seen it in Baba’s silence, in Mama’s absence that lingers even after all these years. I know better than to believe in fairy tales.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want something different. I do.
I want a life where I can breathe without someone telling me how. Where I can make choices without weighing how they’ll bruise someone else’s ego. My dream isn’t a man. My dream is a passport, a scholarship, a campus far away from here.
The thought sends a spark of hope through me, one that fights with the heaviness pressing on my chest. I can see it so clearly: boarding a plane, the hum of a city I’ve never been to, books in my hand that I chose for myself.
But then I hear Imran calling my name from downstairs, probably needing help with his homework, and the spark dims just a little. Reality pulls me back.
I close my books, stack them neatly, and tie my hair back. One day, I promise myself. One day I’ll get out. But until then, I’ll keep my head down, keep working, and keep dreaming quietly.
Because dreams, if spoken too loudly in this house, don’t survive.
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