Brave Heart | ✔️

19

~

Imama texted me perhaps once or twice after that day, but I ignored her. I didn't want to hear any more of her predictions about me, didn't want her to tell me what I was dreading to hear.

I realized later that I wasn't angry at her. She was doing her job as a friend—probably a better job than most of my "friends" were doing by telling me that I was amazing and that Zunair was scum and didn't deserve me. She was being real with me, and my anger at myself displaced onto her. I wanted someone to be angry at other than myself, because being angry with myself meant accepting the truth.

That I was weak. Soft.

That my seesaw never teetered, attempting to maintain balance. That it always shot down on one end, was always heavier on one side.

When Zunair texted me a couple days later, my heart palpitated so hard against my rib cage I feared I would faint or die of a heart attack. I ignored the nagging voice in my head that was reminding me of Imama's words, the voice that was prodding at my soft, weak heart, teasing it for being puppeteered so easily by others.

I met him immediately. His knee was bouncing up and down, a nervous tell of his. When he saw me, his expression further turned distressed, as opposed to my tentative smile that faded away at his reaction.

"Hey." I slid into the chair opposite him. My heart was beating so fast in anticipation that I seriously feared I might die.

"Hey." His reply was terse, stoic. "Do you want something to drink?"

With the way it was going, I would probably pass out from my trembling fingers, so I shook my head.

He sighed. My heartbeat rose. "Sarah, I want to say this once and for all." I nodded, so terrified. "I cannot marry you." He enunciated each syllable, as if he was talking to a baby. "I will not marry you."

Tears threatened to make a home in my eyes. I blinked harshly and looked away, focusing on the neon red "closed" sign on the inside of the restaurant. "Why?" I murmured through trembling lips.

"It was never meant to happen."

My head snapped back to him in surprise. "Why do you say that? Did you get into this knowing it wouldn't end well?"

"I wanted a clean break, Sarah. For you and for me. But you're the one who insisted on meeting me. So I thought we might end this here now, once and for all."

I stared at him, appalled. He was dodging my question.

Suddenly, my dream flashed back to me. It was one of those weird, strange moments that it did. I didn't understand why, but I saw myself looking back over my shoulder at the wings beginning to protrude from my back. When I blinked, they were gone, and I was staring back into the face of the man I loved with everything in my heart. "I don't understand, Zunair. I love you."

Immediately, my dream flashed in front of me again. Except this time, I was falling deeper into the never ending darkness.

He sucked in a sharp breath. He hadn't been expecting that, and to be honest, neither had I. Why had I said that? It made everything harder.

"Don't, Sarah."

"Why not, Zunair?" My voice was angry, and I prided myself for it. For being able to sound strong when really I was breaking on the inside. Imama's words flashed back to me—about my being too soft—and immediately I scowled. "Why don't you want to marry me?"

"You were my present, Sarah, but you're not my future."

"Why can't I be?"

"The reason I can't answer that question right now is the reason I can't stay."

I barked out a surprised laugh. "What kind of bulls*** answer is that, Zunair? Don't talk riddles with me. Why did you get with me if you didn't intend on staying?"

"Why did you get with me if you knew I wouldn't stay?"

I leaned back then, angry. At him or at myself, I didn't know. I just wanted to claw my eyes out in frustration. Because he was right. Because a small part of me always knew he had never arrived in my life with the intention of staying. But I had hoped. Like a naive, soft, stupid girl, I had hoped. That I could be the one to change him, to make him want to stay.

"Now we both understand." He said, gathering his things. He was about to stand up when my voice came out, broken and scared.

"So what now?"

He looked at me with sad eyes. Eyes I didn't understand. This didn't hurt him the way it hurt me, so why was he upset? "Now we move on. We continue our lives. We meet people, maybe fall in love—"

I laughed mirthlessly. "Fall in love, Zunair? I think I've experienced the pain of that enough once to never want it again."

He leaned forward, still staring at me with those eyes, as he brushed my cheek softly. My automatic reaction was to lean into his touch, but he pulled his hand away quickly. "And I'm sorry for that." He whispered. And then, like a ghost, he turned around and walked away.

And I was left sitting there, trying to catch scraps of his riddled words and piece them back together so I could understand what he was trying to say.

But Zunair was always a face-value kind of person. No hidden words, no tricks up his sleeve.

And yet he had played the biggest trick of all, had fooled in the worst way possible, had destroyed something he had no intention of putting back together.

Me.