Author pov

"Ab tum kaha hi Rohan hadd hai ek toh Naina nahi mil rahi upar se tum! Dimag toh theek haina tumhara kaha ho"

"Areyy shantiiii mujhe Naina mil gayi mai ussi ke saath hu" Rohan calmly replied

"Kaha thi voh theek toh haina??"

"Haan ekdum theek hai tum log kaha ho hum vahi par aajate hai"

"Acha, voh papa aaj late ayege toh mai aur Ayaan phir humare ghar jaa rahe hai tum dono bhi vahi par aajao"

"Aaj bhi late? Khair chhodo hum aajayege tum vaha pohocho. Aaram se jana"

Ayaan and Aziza entered her house. It was silent as usual like the place was haunted by silence. Aziza was quite happy after her performance however ever since her father called, she had been awfully quiet.

"Aziza tum.. Uh.. tum theek ho?" Ayaan finally broke the silence after thinking for a while,

"Huh, han yes ofc I'm fine tum baitho na pa-paani piyoge?"

"Pagal ho kya Aziza paani lena hoga mai khud le lunga itni lost kyu ho" ayaan asked, concerned.

"Kuch nhi voh bas thodasa zone out hogyi thi mai aati hu" aziza brushed him off running towards her bedroom.

⚠️ Warning: contains content about self harm

Aziza POV:

I quickly ran off toward my room, I could not bear the questions,I could not bear the noise which is ironic because the house was quiet, so quiet that it was deafening. My fingers curled into my palms, nails pressing into skin just to feel something. Anything other than this hollow quiet.

A thought slips in - you could make it stop

It doesn't sound cruel. That's the worst part, It sounds gentle...almost comforting.

It makes me feel like I'm alive, I'm living something... I'm not just a rock. One voice whispers that I'm being dramatic and unreasonable and the other tells me that I have to do it before the noise kills me.

'I don't want to die... not like this'

My hands tremble but before I realise I open the drawer beside my bed. My fingers hover over the edge before I reach for the blade in my drawer.

'It would be easy,'

'Just one moment, some blood, a sharp pain'

'And the noise would stop, you would feel like a human again'

'It's not like you're killing yourself'

'You're saving yourself'

All the voices in my head whispered.

But instead I slam the drawer shut like it burned me, my knees give out and I sink to the floor pressing my palms against my face, breathing like I just ran miles. I waited for the tears to spill, to feel lighter but my eyes were still dry and the ache in my chest kept increasing.

'Please make it stop'

Ayaan POV:

It had been almost 15 minutes yet Aziza had still not come out, I was worried sick, I knew she was not okay and something was up. Should I go check on her? Is it right to go to her bedroom without permission?

Another minute passed, still no sign of her

Yea okay fuck right and wrong i am going inside right now.

"Aziza?"

I push the door a little more and step inside.

And then I see her.

On the floor. Folded into herself like she's trying to disappear. Hands covering her face. Her Shoulders shaking, but she's trying so hard to be quiet about it.

For a second, I can't move.

My brain offers nothing useful. No words. No plan. Just a sharp, ugly panic climbing up my throat.

I knew she was hurting.
I just didn't know it looked like this.

I step closer, slower than I've ever moved in my life, like the wrong sound might make her vanish.

"Aziza...?" I say again, softer this time.

She doesn't answer. Does't look up.

I crouch down in front of her, but I don't touch her. I sit beside her on the floor. My heart is pounding so loud I'm sure she can hear it.

I hate how useless I feel.
I hate that I don't know what to say.
I hate that the only thing I've ever been good at is staying silent.

"You're not alone," I murmur finally. My voice sounds unfamiliar, like it belongs to someone braver than me. "I'm here."

"It's okay... It's okay Aziza" I murmur again but she doesn't look at me. Yet her breathing shifts just slightly.

"Aziza, you don't have to talk about it but please just look at me... everything is gonna be okay"

"When is anything ever okay?" she finally speaks while her face is still buried in her palms.

I realized that she wasn't crying yet she was shaking uncontrollably like her mind was racing in a hundred different directions.

"Is it your father?" I asked after a beat of silence.

"I- I didn't just lose my mom that day Ayaan, I lost my father too. And you know you might think what a poor man he must have loved his wife so much that he can't move on. But that's not true ayaan, I never saw them loving each other when I grew up. They fought and fought and resented each other so much. My mother hated him for always taking his family's side for never standing up for her, never showing any love towards her. And my father? He resented my mom for leaving her job, he would rant to me about it everyday, he would mention his increased load, his tension and his hatred towards mom's actions. I've heard it."

I stayed quite unsure if Aziza finished speaking. My heart ached for her and the things she just told me gave me another perspective about the whole situation.

"You know ayaan he even blamed her for his mother and father's death. He told me... and I know he hates me too. He resents me because I never cried when dadu died. He never said it but from that day his behaviour towards me changed just a little yet enough for it to hurt. Then how? How is it that he has lost himself so much ever since she left. I don't understand."

"I'm so helpless Ayaan, so helpless. She's not here but we are, his children are here. But he doesn't see, he can't see. Rohan's hurting too, he was so close to both mumma and papa and he lost both of them Ayaan, in the blink of an eye. And I can't hold him, he won't let me because he's the one looking after me. And it breaks me. I feel so weak, I feel so helpless. Make this stop please! Make it stop"

I don't interrupt her.

Not once.

Even when it hurts to hear.
Even when every word feels like it's carving something into my chest. When she finishes, the room goes unbearably quiet.

I stare at the floor for a second, trying to gather words that don't sound fake . I've never been good at this part.

So I swallow and look at her.

"I don't know how to fix this," I admit quietly. "I wish I did."

My hands tighten together.

"But I'm really glad you told me."

I pause, "Because now it's not just yours to carry."

She looks like she might cry, and it makes my chest ache.

"You don't have to be strong all the time, Aziza," I say. "Not with me. I'm not going anywhere just because things are messy."

I hesitate before the next part, but I force it out anyway.

"And if your brain tells you you're alone..." I exhale. "...it's lying. I'm right here."

I don't reach for her.
I don't make it dramatic.

I just sit a little closer.

"So we deal with it," I murmured. "One bad day at a time. You don't have to win forever. Just... don't give up tonight."

Aziza POV:

Ayaan's words hit hard, straight to my heart. And all the weight I had been carrying inside suddenly felt lighter. My eyes filled with tears and all I wanted was to cry... cry and cry until my body forgets how to hold me...

A broken sound slips out of my throat before I can stop it, and suddenly I'm crying, not the quiet, controlled kind, but the kind that steals your breath and leaves you shaking.

I hate it.
I hate being seen like this.

But Ayaan doesn't move away.

He doesn't tell me to calm down.
Doesn't rush me.
Doesn't pretend it's nothing.

He just stays.

Close enough that I can feel his presence, like if I drift too far, he'll pull me back without even touching me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper between breaths, even though I don't know what I'm apologizing for.

"For what?" he asks softly.

I shake my head. For being like this. For not being strong. For letting someone see the parts of me I've spent years hiding.

But the words won't come out.

So instead, I let the silence answer for me.

And for the first time in a long while, it doesn't feel suffocating.

________________________________________________________________________________

I wear long sleeves on a hot sunny morning,

No I'm not depressed

But people keep asking questions they don't want answers to...

At the end of a tough night I somehow always find myself looking for a sharpner,

Yes, I'm okay

But I haven't written with a pencil in years...

I shower once every three four days,

No, I'm not depressed 

But showers aren't supposed to sting like a confession,

I may forget what I did last night, but water leaves no chance to be a painful reminder.

Yes I'm okay,

I just forget how loud water can be on new skin.

I hate how it heals without asking me,

I hate how my skin feels, how my hair is always a mess,

 how every inch of my body feels louder than It should.

 I hate how I feel like I occupy more space than I deserve...

I haven't eaten properly since a few days,

No I'm not depressed,

But I have forgotten what my favourite dish was...

I've not finished any work since the past few days,

Lazy...? Yes that's what I am.

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