Thirty minutes had passed.
I sat alone in her favorite place in the house, my eyes wandering over the shelves filled with piles of books.
And then, the scenes began to play before my eyes—
She balanced herself on the stool like a toddler learning to walk.
"Iman!"
Her balance shifted, her foot slipped, but I caught her.
"I told you, Miss Shorty. It didn't take a genius to predict this."
"Let me go."
"Not until you admit you should have let me help you."
"Move," she said, and I took a step toward her.
"Iman, you're—"
"Perfectly fine."
"I was going to say too short for this, but sure, let's go with 'perfectly fine.'"
I smiled as her adorable face danced before my eyes.
Oh God.
My head fell back.
I ruined everything. I made her cry!
I closed my eyes.
A tear fell from her eye.
"What are you saying, Ahad?"
"He is a nice friend. That's it."
"You like him, don't you?"
Our voices echoed in my head. I frowned, my eyes still shut tight.
Her eyes had widened in shock.
I bit my tongue.
Shit, what are you doing, Shah?
Breaking someone's heart—the only girl for whom I would get on my knees if she asked.
Before I knew it, I had pushed my chair back, turned on my heels, and ran a hand through my face.
If I made her cry, I am the one to make her laugh too.
After all, she is the only one closest to my poor heart, which was now beating so fast.
I closed the door behind me, my jaw clenched.
A tear.
---
I quickened my steps to reach her room as fast as I could.
And just like that, I knew it—she wasn't asleep. Light seeped through the small gap between the door and the floor.
She must be going through her novels.
That's what she did when she was under a lot of tension or when she felt like throwing up.
That stubborn girl didn't cry easily like others, which only made the situation worse. She would pretend everything was fine and then lose herself in her books until she couldn't lie to herself anymore.
I knocked on the door.
As expected, no reply.
"Iman?"
Still silent.
My hand reached for the golden door knob.
I twisted it.
Heck, had she locked herself in?
Holy shit.
I ran a hand through my hair and rubbed the back of my neck.
"Iman?" My voice came out desperate. "Are you there?"
A dumb question, considering I already knew the answer. But I couldn't think straight.
"Iman."
"Iman," I repeated.
Still no reply.
"Hell, Iman. I-I am sorry," I stuttered, my voice came out completely raw.
I twisted the door knob again, desperate to enter her room and hug her—the only thing I couldn't do.