Back in Time – Amira at 16, Remembering
The rain tapped softly on her window. Amira sat on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, her room dimly lit by the warm glow of a lamp. The world outside felt quiet, but inside her, memories screamed.
She was 16 now.
Grown enough to understand pain... but still too young to carry the weight she held alone.
Her eyes drifted to the corner of her desk —
a tiny sketchbook filled with half-finished designs.
Dreams. Hopes. Distractions.
But nothing ever distracted her for long from him.
Zayn.
She exhaled sharply, her chest tightening.
It had been three years since she pushed him away.
Since that ridiculous, painful messaging incident.
Since she acted like she didn't care — like she hated him — when every beat of her heart was crying his name.
She had done it on purpose.
Started that mess with his friend, played the fool, pretended to be a boy, let herself be misunderstood — all because she couldn't risk letting him get close.
Because if he really saw her... maybe he'd be disgusted. Maybe he'd laugh. Maybe he'd pity her.
And she couldn't survive that.
So she played the villain in her own love story.
Even now, Zayn hadn't messaged her since.
No teasing. No laughter. No fights.
Just silence.
She blinked back the burn in her eyes.
That should've made it easier.
But then came Zara.
Her online best friend who had slipped into her life at the perfect time.
Who listened. Who comforted.
Who asked — "Do you like him?"
And she, in her moment of weakness, told the truth.
Only to later discover... Zara was Ayesha.
Zayn's secret love.
Amira clenched her fists. The betrayal still felt fresh —
not just because Ayesha lied,
but because Amira let herself believe someone finally cared, without knowing her as the shy, awkward cousin with a secret heartache.
Now she knew everything.
Zayn had loved Ayesha.
He tried to fight for her.
He failed.
And yet, even in heartbreak… he never looked back at Amira.
She wiped a tear with the sleeve of her hoodie and whispered to herself:
"Maybe he really does hate me now…"
"Or maybe… I was just never meant to be anything to him."
But deep inside her — buried under layers of pain, guilt, and teenage doubt — a tiny flicker of hope still burned.
Maybe one day... he'd see her.
Not the awkward girl who insulted him.
Not the cousin who ran away.
But Amira —
the girl who had loved him since she was six.
And maybe then... it wouldn't hurt so much to remember.
The mirror in front of Amira reflected a girl she barely recognized — messy curls, dry skin, eyes that carried stories even she didn't know how to tell. She had always been too caught up in her own world to care about appearances. Skincare, outfits, self-care routines — none of that had ever seemed important when her heart was busy hiding things it could never say.
But today felt different.
Maybe it was the silence between her and Zayn that had lasted too long… or maybe it was the weight of her feelings piling up since childhood. Whatever it was, something inside her stirred — a small voice that whispered, "Let's try."
She pulled out her phone, searched for skincare routines, and watched video after video — morning routines, night routines, DIY masks, everything. With shaky hands, she mixed ingredients and gently applied a cooling mask to her face. It wasn't much, but it felt like a step.Amira gently smoothed the cooling clay mask across her cheeks, staring at herself in the mirror — not with vanity, but with unfamiliar determination. She had never cared about glowing skin or the right shade of lip balm. Her world had always revolved around quiet wishes, late-night overthinking, and memories of a boy she could never claim. But something had changed lately — a shift so subtle, even she couldn't explain it.
Maybe she just wanted to feel… worthy.
Her phone buzzed.
She wiped her fingers, picked it up.
Zara:"Busy?"
Amira smiled faintly, heart tugged by the name. It still felt strange—liking someone, depending on someone, while secretly knowing they were the same person who once stole something so tender from her. Yet she didn't push Zara away.
She couldn't.
Amira:"Hey. Just doing some self-care. What's up?"
There was a pause.
Then came a message that didn't sound like Zara at all:
Zara:"Nothing… Just feeling a little messed up tonight."
Amira:"What happened? Are you okay?"
Zara:"He left."
Amira froze. Her heart jumped in her chest. She swallowed hard.
Amira:"Who?"
The typing dots blinked for a while.
Zara:"The guy I told you about… the one I loved. He couldn't convince his parents. He didn't even try hard enough. I waited and waited — but he chose silence. I didn't mean enough, I guess."
A tight ache twisted in Amira's stomach.
Zayn.
It had happened. The thing she secretly wondered about. The thing she was never supposed to know — it was real now. Confirmed. They were over.
And yet… her heart didn't leap with joy. It clenched with something heavier — pain. Not for herself, but for him.
And maybe… even for Ayesha.
Because love wasn't a war to be won.
Amira:"I'm so sorry… That must hurt a lot."
Zara:"It does. But I'll live. Some things just aren't written for us."
A silence settled between them — the kind where both people are screaming inside, but the words get stuck between pride and pain.
Amira looked at her screen for a long moment, then typed:
Amira:"You deserve someone who tries… every day."
Zara didn't reply right away. When she did, it was short.
Zara:"Thanks… You're sweet."
Amira didn't know what she felt. Not happiness. Not anger. Just… quiet.
She leaned back, watching the mask dry on her face.
So many masks — hers, Zara's, Zayn's.
But soon, one by one, they would all begin to crack.