Laila.....
I knew she was watching me.
Not in the cruel way people sometimes do.
Not with judgment or disgust.
Just… watching.
Like someone trying to read a page without turning it.
Like someone who wanted to understand without asking questions.
And that scared me more than anything.
Because people who want to understand you, often end up seeing things you've tried so hard to hide.
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I told myself not to look back.
Not when I caught her eyes lingering in the corridor.
Not when our hands brushed over the same book at the library.
Not even when her voice said my name for the first time — quiet, careful, not demanding.
"Laila?"
And still, I looked.
---
She wasn't like the others.
The girls who whispered when I passed.
The boys who laughed behind hands.
The teachers who paused mid-sentence when they remembered I didn't share their faith.
No. Tracy was different.
I saw her polishing church linen with her mother one day through the window of the chapel — a soft glow of stained glass pouring down on her like she was born beneath it. Like she belonged there.
I had to look away.
Because I didn't belong there.
Or here.
Not really.
I belonged to rules and promises made long ago.
---
When I was twelve, my mother told me that love is obedience.
That peace comes from submission — not to feelings, but to family.
To God.
To duty.
So when I agreed to the engagement, I told myself I was doing what was right.
Even if it didn't feel like it.
Especially because it didn't feel like it.
---
Tracy didn't ask me about the engagement.
Not directly.
But her silence was full of questions.
And something about that made me want to answer them — even if I didn't know how.
So I wrote her name in my notebook.
Just once.
Just to see how it looked.
Tracy.
I stared at it for a long time before I closed the page and whispered a prayer.
Not for forgiveness.
But for strength.
Because something in me knew — this wasn't a sin I could pray away.
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> "She looked at me like I was more than what they say I am. Like I was more than covered hair and lowered gaze and arranged promises. And for the first time… I wanted someone to look at me like that again."
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