I never thought a single conversation could feel so heavy, but today, even breathing feels like a decision. Khalid's presence has been quiet, almost polite, but I can feel the undercurrent of control in everything he says. It's subtle—the way he mentions my schedule, the way he notices who I spend time with—but it's always there. Always reminding me that something is expected of me, even if nothing is official.
And then there's Fahad.
I try not to think about him. I try to convince myself that our connection is nothing, that our messages, our shared jokes, our quiet moments online are harmless. But when we meet in public, even under the guise of friends, the tension is undeniable. The air between us hums with words we don't say, feelings we don't acknowledge.
Today, we sit on a park bench, pretending to be casual. I talk about my day. He talks about his work. The children in the playground laugh and run around us. The world feels normal, even for a few moments.
And then he looks at me. Not the way Lex looks at him, not the way Khalid would if he knew, but carefully, searchingly. I feel my chest tighten.
"You've been quieter lately," he says. His voice is gentle but precise, like he's testing me.
"I'm fine," I reply. I want to be fine. I want to believe it.
He doesn't push. He never does. That's what makes this so dangerous. We are so close, but we are careful. We sit on opposite sides of a line that neither of us dares to cross.
But the line is cracking.
"Ria," he says slowly, almost hesitantly, "are you… okay with everything? Your parents, Khalid?"
I freeze. I haven't let myself answer that question.
"I… I don't know," I admit softly. "I have a few friends. I have my life. Things aren't simple."
He nods, but I can see it in his eyes—he knows there's more, and he's not going to push me. Not yet.
When we leave, I walk to my car, hands trembling slightly, and I wonder how long I can keep pretending.
Because everything feels like a balance: between duty and desire, between expectation and freedom, between what I can say and what I feel.
And the truth? I'm not sure I even know where that balance ends anymore.