Warm Love|✓

28

To not forget them, to remeber them, I caged them. I don't want to forget Amaira so I caged her, I want to dream, that Amaira is with me, so I kept her trails in the wooden box.

Opening the lid, the first thing my eyes crashes in is, the photo frame. I lift the frame running my finger over the picture.

The picture of three of us.

We three were great friends, Me Samira and her sister Amaira. Shared every happiness, every sorrow. Our relation was so pure, felt so eternal. We went to same kindergarten, same school. But failed to walk with each other, in the race of life. We three broke. One dead and the other two left to mourn over the scronful memories.

I bring the photograph cradling it to my chest. My inner is crunched under the pressure of present and past. It feels like I belong neither to my past nor to my present.

Amidst of my pain, I snatched my brother's happines. I thought I learn from my past. I learned that never be so selfish, so heartless to ignore someones plea. But it seems like, mistakes have been my forte.

Ignorance.

Towards Samira happiness. To my brother's pain. I failed to live in present, I failed to understand the true meaning behind the words everyone encrypted with their pitiful glances, Moving on.

Move on, move on. Forget everything.

But how?

They didn't told me. My therapist told me it's inevitable to forget memories, I have to make settlements with them. I can't run from them, and accept that Samira is gone. Gone forever, a place where even if I scream out loud, even if I cry and wish desperately for just her one presence, she wouldn't listen. Cause she is dead, she is cold.

Since the four years, each day, I try to remember her. Her lifefull eyes, not the cold grey orbs, who watched me lifeless. How she looked, not the body which was painted with her own blood. Her smile not the painful one she last gave me. The warmth of her hugs, not the one her death arms spread to hug fire.

Rummaging in the casket, I pick the red braided friendship band, which she gifted to me. I remember how much Samira was jealous when her own sister ignored her and gifted me her first hand made craft. I nuzzle in to feel her distant scent. But only one came, the scent of dead.

I saw her falling from the terrace from my own eyes. She just like those bids of my pearl necklace scattered on the ground. Even if I tried to collect the scattered beads, atlast the last one left and promised to never came back. Just like her.

I fail to search the reality that she is gone. As I failed to search, I failed to accept.

With her, my other friend is also gone. Drifted away. Amaira blames me for whatever happened with Samira. Her dead cease the love which both me and Amaira, carried. With Samira, the trace of my dead friendships were caged in the box.

I still hear the intensity of her hate, her words carried.

She believes, that I was the one who pushed her dear sister to the portal of dead. But she doesn't know that, Samira pushed herself from the balustrade. I screamed the truth to Amaira that I was not the one who pushed her. I tried to explain her, like a dog on hunger, I want to keep my other friend close to me. But she slapped me, and said,

"Wish I'd protected my sister from a selfish snake like you. And if you don't want my dead, just never contact me."

That time I knew, eyes can be cruel.

From that, I hate the word Selfish.

It pierced me, even if the word appears infront of me.

I didn't knew my friendship was so tender, that it failed to comfort each of us.