Death was the last option — not a choice, not a desire she could act on, but a thought that lingered when everything else failed. Raya couldn't think of anything else. She wouldn't end her life with her own hands; that was forbidden, unthinkable. If she was to leave this world, it had to be natural, ordained, decided by Him alone. All she could do was repent and pray that He forgave her for being so tired.
Raya was born into a family that loved her. At least, that's what people said love looked like.
After changing schools, everything unravelled. The bullying wasn't loud at first — it was quiet, calculated. Setups. Framing. Whispers that grew teeth. Slut-shaming that followed her into classrooms and stuck to her name like a stain she couldn't wash off. She tried to endure it. Tried to hope. Tried to believe that happiness was something she could still reach.
Life tried her. And tried her again. And again.
Now, happiness no longer felt like an option — not even a dream. All she wanted was rest. Silence. An end to the ache that followed her everywhere.
The darkness she had carried since childhood was growing.
That evening, it hit her without warning.
The room went cold.
Raya sat on the edge of her bed, arms wrapped tightly around herself as a violent shiver ran through her body. Her teeth chattered softly, uncontrollably. She wasn't cold — she knew that — but fear had lodged itself deep in her bones. Her breathing came in uneven bursts, sharp inhales that burned her chest, shallow exhales that left her dizzy.
Not again.
A crawling sensation spread beneath her skin, deep in her arms, like her veins were restless, itching to escape her body. She scratched at her wrist, then stopped, pressing her hands together instead, grounding herself.
Voices crowded her thoughts — not clear, not loud, but constant. Whispering that she didn't belong. That she never had. That the world of the living had no space for someone like her.
Her knees gave way.
She dropped to the floor beside her bed, palms flat against the ground, her entire body shaking now. Memories surged — classrooms filled with laughter that wasn't kind, eyes that watched her too closely, love that hurt more than it healed. Every attempt she had made to survive replayed itself like proof of failure.
Tears blurred her vision as she turned toward her prayer mat.
She lowered herself onto it, forehead pressed to the fabric, hands trembling as she clasped them together.
"Please," she whispered. "Please forgive me."
Her voice cracked as fear tightened around her chest. She prayed because it was the only thing that didn't demand strength from her. Faith didn't ask her to explain why she was like this.
"I'm trying," she breathed. "I swear I'm trying."
Footsteps approached the door.
Raya stiffened.
She wiped her face quickly, forcing her shaking to still, forcing her breathing into something steady. By the time the door opened, she was sitting upright on the bed again, hands folded neatly in her lap — fragile calm stitched over terror.
Asha froze in the doorway.
"Raya… what happened to you?"
Raya looked up and forced a small smile.
"Ammi don't do that," she said quickly. "I'm fine."
Asha knew that look.
The words were familiar, but the voice wasn't. Too careful. Too rehearsed. Raya sat too straight, shoulders rigid, a faint tremor still running through her body like an aftershock.
"You're shivering," Asha said softly, stepping closer.
Raya flinched.
The movement was small, but it pierced Asha's heart. She stopped her hand mid-air.
"I'm not cold," Raya said. "I'm okay."
Asha swallowed hard. Her daughter's eyes weren't empty — they were crowded, weighed down by something far too heavy for her to carry alone.
"How can you be fine?" Asha sobbed quietly. "Look at you. This isn't how I imagined it would turn out."
Raya said nothing.
Days passed, and Raya's condition worsened. Family members came and went, filling the house with prayers and worried glances. Friends visited, voices low, smiles strained. Everyone hoped she would heal quickly.
Resting in her room, Raya stared at the ceiling as murmurs drifted through the walls.
Not visitors again, she thought.
"Raya!" Asha called. "Come down, someone's here to say hi."
The family of her beloved had come to check on her. Concern etched their faces, worry heavy in their voices. She spoke briefly with Kareem and Faheema, his cousins, exchanging polite words that felt hollow.
She hadn't spoken to Aaqib yet.
"Hey," he said when they were finally alone, concern clear in his eyes. "How are you doing?"
"Hi," she replied flatly. Then, after a pause, "You should tell them. They deserve to know what you know. Don't punish them like this."
He frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"We have to break up," she said, forcing her face into stillness. "If I'm going to meet Him, I shouldn't be caught disobeying His orders. It doesn't speak well for me. Now does it?"
"What do you mean break up?" he said urgently. "I could marry you. That way you won't break any rules. Or do you want me to tell them the truth? Huh? That you think there's no hope for you?"
Her control snapped.
"Go on," she said, shoving him lightly. "Tell them. Tell them their daughter is dying. That they'll never see her again. Why don't you get it? I'm protecting you — and them."
Her voice cracked despite her effort. "I don't want you all to remember me like this. Not sick. Remember the good days. Please don't do this to yourself. You'll only be hurt in the end."
She turned away before the tears could fall.
"Dr. Farhan says she needs happiness," Asha explained to Mr. and Mrs. Tauzin. "That it might help her mind relax. I'm trying, but she keeps to herself. I don't know what else to do."
"I think I can help," Aaqib said quietly.
Zayn's eyes flashed. "And why should I trust you with my daughter? What can you do that her own family can't?"
"Abba," Zayden intervened, calm but firm. "Hear him out. They're the same age. He might understand her better."
Asha hesitated, then nodded. "Let him try. But don't give up on her."
Zayn scoffed. "Oh well. Try your luck."
Aaqib's Phone:
Hi, can't wait to see you tmr. Mwah
8:59 AM — Delivered