“In another lifetime, we’d be together, Ikram.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No—why does it have to be in another lifetime? This is the one we get. If we can be together then, why can’t we be together now? Why are you leaving me?”
My voice trembles. “You don’t love me enough to stay. No—you don’t even love me at all.”
“I do,” he says quietly. “Don’t say that, girl. I love you.”
“Then prove it,” I snap, my voice sharp. “Fucking prove it. Prove it by letting me stay. Prove it by not pushing me away like I’m something you’re trying to forget.”
He looks down. I try to catch his eye.
When he finally speaks, his voice is flat. Tired.
“Our values don’t align. We aren’t good for each other. I’m not good for you. This just… can’t work.”
“Ouch.” I stumble back, like the words hit me physically.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“No. I’m not.” I press a hand to my chest. “My head hurts a little… but my heart hurts more. You’re hurting me.”
He sighs. “I really do love you, Ikram. I swear I do. But you can’t stay. We’re not meant to be. It only hurts this much now. It’ll fade. You’ll heal.”
“I didn’t ask for healing.” My fists clench. “I’m not broken. I’m a tough girl. I just…” I stare down at my feet. “I just don’t want to go. Please.”
“Please go, Ikram,” he says, almost gently. “Just go. I’m sorry.”
“Fine.” I turn. “I’m leaving.”
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
He breathes in sharply, then hesitates.
“Why aren’t you going?” he says. “Go. You already started.”
“I can’t,” I whisper. “You’re still holding me.”
He looks down. Our hands are still locked. He blinks like he’s only just noticed.
“Why are you holding me,” I ask, “if you want me to leave so badly?”
“I… I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I didn’t even realize I was still holding you.”
“Then let go,” I say. “You don’t want me to stay, so let me go. Why are you so cruel? Why did you awaken the love in me if you had no intention of staying long enough to understand the depth of it? Why are you doing this to me?”
“I don’t hate you,” he says. He breathes hard. “We’re not soulmates, Ikram. This isn’t divine intervention. And it’s not chance either. I willed this.
I chose you. And I loved you like you were—like you were mine. I knotted the red threads of fate myself until they spelled your name. I love you, Ikram—goddamn it, I love you intentionally. I love you with every bit of conscience I was born with. I love you on purpose. With purpose.”
He throws his head back, runs his hands through his hair.
“Then why?” My voice cracks. “Why are you pushing me away and pulling me close at the same time? Why are you confusing me like this? Let me go.”
“You can go,” he says. “I’m not even holding you tightly. One pull and we’d come undone.”
“You think I haven’t pulled?” I shake my head. “I don’t want to go—but I would. I’m homesick for arms that don’t even want to hold me. I’d still leave… if you’d just let go.”
He says nothing.
“I’m still here,” I say, “because I keep hoping you’ll pull me back. That you’ll tell me to stay.”
Silence.
“I’m choked with tenderness for you,” he finally says. “But Ikram… you’ve got to love yourself. If you really did, you wouldn’t be stuck here. In between.”
“Don’t.” I cut him off sharply. “Don’t you dare twist this on me. I do love myself. I just love you more than I love me. And there’s no loving me without loving you. You’ve made yourself a part of me.”
My lips tremble. “I’m trying to leave. But you won’t let me go. You confuse me.”
The words choke me. “It makes me a bit pathetic… to love you this much.”
“If you really want to go,” I whisper, “then don’t hold my hands. Just loosen your grip. Then I’ll know. Then I’ll leave. I swear I will.”
He stares at our hands—two halves of a prayer—then at my face. He looks like he’s mourning.
He sighs.
“It’s unfair,” he mumbles. “I’m trying. But your grip is so tight. And I… I don’t want to loosen mine. So I hold on.”
NB: This never happened. But it felt like it could have. It’s purely fiction