Two months passed like pages she wasn't ready to read again.
After everything—the confession, the lies, the cracks between people she once admired—Amira had thrown herself into school, skincare routines, and endless chats with Zara that felt both real and fake all at once.
Now, she stood outside her uncle's house, the air buzzing with Eid celebration energy. Laughter floated from the inside, warm and nostalgic. It was tradition—every Eid, the whole maternal side gathered. Cousins, uncles, toddlers in bright clothes. All of them.
Except this time, one part of the family was missing.
Zayn's.
"They're not coming," her mother had said. "His sister's exams are going on. Maybe next week."
She hadn't said anything, but her heart... it sank.
Amira tried to enjoy the moment. She smiled, posed for photos with her cousin Noor, helped in the kitchen, even got compliments on how grown-up and glowing she looked.
But the corner of her heart kept waiting.
A few days later, it happened.
She was sitting on the carpeted floor, Noor beside her, surrounded by the usual chaos of younger cousins fighting over board games and the elders drinking tea when her aunt's phone rang.
It was a video call from Zayn's house.
"They're all here," someone announced excitedly. "Come say hi!"
The phone was passed around like a trophy, all faces leaning in to wave.
"Zayn!!!"
"Where's your youngest?"
"Look at you all grown up!"
And then—
Zayn.
On the screen. In real time.
Her heart dropped. Just like that, her Eid came undone.
Amira stayed quiet, adjusting the dupatta on her shoulder, forcing a smile, while Noor leaned over and said, "Say hi, come on."
But Zayn barely looked at the camera. He greeted everyone politely, laughed with the uncles, answered questions, joked with one of the younger boys... but there was something about his tone. Flat. Mechanical.
And when his eyes did brush past the camera—past everyone—he skipped her.
Her heart thudded painfully.
He wasn't ignoring the group.
He was ignoring her.
Only her.
She swallowed hard. Tried not to show it. She wasn't sure if Noor noticed her shifting posture, her stiff expression, the way her fingers started playing with the hem of her sleeve.
To everyone else, it looked normal. Cousins catching up over Eid. Casual teasing. Light smiles.
But she knew better.
This was the first time they had seen each other—spoken to each other, technically—since that night. Since the accident of her jealousy. Since the mask she wore to push him away. Since everything he might've heard from Ayesha.
Only Amira knew the real reason behind his silence.
The break-up.
He was still carrying it. Quietly. He didn't want to talk. Not with her. Not now.
Maybe never.
She looked down, focusing on a small crack in the tile beneath her. Her heartbeat was so loud, she wondered if Noor could hear it.
Zayn avoided eye contact like it would burn him.
And Amira, sitting miles away yet so close to the screen, realized something:
The silence between them had grown too loud to ignore anymore.
The video call ended with laughter, waves, and lingering smiles on everyone's faces.
Except Amira's.
She tried to look normal—engaged, casual, just another cousin in the background—but the moment Zayn's face disappeared from the screen, she exhaled like she'd been holding her breath underwater.
Beside her, Noor nudged her arm with a sly smirk.
"Someone's heart was beating like a drum," she whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Getting butterflies, huh?"
Amira's eyes widened. She gave Noor a quick side-glare, her cheeks already betraying her with a deep flush. "Please stop," she muttered under her breath. "Not a time for jokes…"
Noor grinned. "I'm not joking. You looked like you were about to faint when he came on screen."
"I wasn't—" Amira started, then cut herself off, rubbing her temple as if that could erase her expression from moments ago. "I was just… surprised. That's all."
"Right," Noor said, dragging out the word dramatically. "Surprised… with a racing heart, sweaty hands, blinking twenty times in ten seconds…"
Amira groaned. "Noor, seriously."
But Noor's voice softened, the teasing fading just a little. "It's okay, Ami. You can admit it. I've known for ages."
Amira looked at her cousin—her safe place, her secret keeper. The one person she'd told everything. About the jealousy. The messages. The fake account. The betrayal. The heartbreak. Zara. Even the way she felt like she didn't know who she was anymore around him.
"I don't know what I feel right now," Amira said quietly, staring down at her lap. "He didn't even look at me. Not once."
Noor leaned in, bumping their shoulders. "Maybe he's hurting too."
"Maybe," Amira whispered. "Or maybe… he really hates me."
A moment of silence settled between them.
Then Noor said, gently, "Even if he does… you're stronger now. You've changed."
Amira nodded slowly, but inside, her thoughts spiraled — around Zayn's silence, around Zara's betrayal, around her own confusion that only seemed to grow with time.
And in that moment, surrounded by family and festivity, Amira realized: growing up wasn't just about getting stronger.
It was about learning to carry what hurts without letting it show.