Alya sat by the window, the city lights flickering like distant stars. Her phone buzzed again, and she felt that familiar flutter in her chest. "I don't know why I feel nervous… it's just a message," she muttered to herself.
Then his name popped on the screen: Arman.
What happened? he asked.
She hesitated, fingers hovering over the keys. "Nothing… I just… I don't know. I feel a little… weird, I guess."
His reply came almost immediately, calm, steady, grounding. "It's okay to feel that. I'm here."
Her heart softened. There was something about his words that made her chest ache in a gentle way, the ache of hope, of something delicate and new.
After a pause, she typed what had been on her mind for days. "I love kids… and I have no problem with yours. But sometimes… I worry. I mean, when your daughter is around, I don't want to feel like I'm… invisible."
Arman's reply was instant, reassuring. "Alya… I promise, you will never feel like a third person. We'll spend time together, all of us, and I'll make sure you feel included. That's my responsibility too."
She exhaled slowly, relief flooding her. The tension in her shoulders eased a little.
"I just… I want to be honest with you," she continued. "I don't expect anything from her. I just want you to see me… for me."
"I do," he replied softly. "I've been taking care of her since she was a baby. Even when her mother was away for months, she was with me. She's important to me, and I want you to be part of her life too. But you don't need to worry our bond, ours, will be separate. Safe."
Her heart swelled. His words weren't just promises they felt like a home she hadn't realized she was searching for.
They drifted into lighter conversations: gym, football, little jokes about TikTok, and playful challenges. Alya felt herself laughing, really laughing.
And then, almost like a whisper, she shared a piece of her heart. "When my semester started, Mama taught me a prayer… to help find a good life partner. I recited it every day. The first proposal she told me about… was yours. And I felt… right about it. Like maybe Allah already knew what my heart needed."
A moment of quiet passed. Then Arman's simple, heartfelt response appeared: "Alhamdulillah."
Alya leaned back, a soft smile spreading across her face. The world felt a little lighter, a little warmer. Somewhere, far away, Arman was smiling too, feeling that same strange mix of calm and excitement—the thrill of a journey just beginning.
That night, as the city slept, Alya whispered to herself, "Goodnight, Arman."
13th August lingered in Alya's body long after the night settled in.
Her farewell had been loud, chaotic, full of laughter and endless goodbyes. By the time she returned home, her voice had surrendered completely, reduced to a whisper that barely existed. She laughed at herself while sipping warm water, the silence oddly comforting after a day that had taken everything out of her.
Her phone lit up.
Arman.
He had a way of checking in that felt natural, never forced. He asked if she was feeling better, if the farewell had gone well. Alya smiled, fingers moving quickly despite her exhaustion. She told him she felt amazing, even though her voice had gone into complete shutdown mode. She told him it had been too much fun.
And then, like she always did, she asked about his day.
Arman told her he'd had the day off. He had spent it with Lara.
Alya paused for a moment when she read that name. Lara. His daughter. A name that already carried weight in her heart, even though she had never seen the child, never heard her voice. She imagined tiny hands, curious eyes, a child who belonged to a past that wasn't Alya's, yet would inevitably touch her future.
He mentioned being tired. He had reached home at one in the morning the night before. Alya frowned at her screen, concern settling in instinctively. She asked if he was feeling better now, if he was still exhausted. Then, softer, she asked how Lara was.
She was fine, he said. He was planning to sleep early that night.
That simple exchange made Alya feel closer to him than long conversations ever could. It was strange how care slipped in quietly, without permission.
Then he teased her.
He complained that she still hadn't sent him her picture.
Alya laughed silently, already overthinking. She told him she hadn't sent it because he didn't like saris, and she was afraid he wouldn't like her in one either. It wasn't entirely a joke. A part of her was always searching for approval, even when she pretended she wasn't.
He corrected her immediately. He hadn't said that.
He told her he could only judge once he saw her.
When the response came after he saw the picture, Alya felt her breath hitch.
He said she looked very beautiful.
Her heart did that foolish little jump it always did when she felt seen. She teased him, asking if that meant she was allowed to wear saris now. His answer was simple, almost amused. Of course. He had already told her before. If she liked them, she should wear them.
Alya's happiness spilled out uncontrollably. She smiled to herself, whispering a small victory into the quiet room. Sometimes, it was the smallest permissions that felt like freedom.
The conversation drifted, light and playful. She accused him of not snapping back, of breaking their streak. He explained he had been driving almost the entire day. That alone was enough for Alya to imagine him behind the wheel, tired eyes, steady hands.
She told him he should have called her. She would have been his personal driver.
He laughed and asked if she could even drive.
Her reply came effortlessly. Of course she could. He just had to sit beside her and shout at people to move out of the way. Confidence had always been her favorite disguise.
Arman joked that he would have been more stressed sitting beside her than he had been while driving himself.
Alya smiled, fingers dancing over the screen as she promised him that nothing could happen to him with her around. There was a playful menace in her reassurance, a strength she hoped he could feel even through words.
Then came his message.
Blessed to have you.
Alya stared at the screen for a long moment.
Not because the words were dramatic, but because they were simple. Honest. And dangerously comforting.
She leaned back against her pillow, heart full in a way that scared her. Somewhere between laughter, shared exhaustion, and casual affection, something was settling quietly inside her chest.
This wasn't love.
Not yet.
But it was the beginning of attachment. And Alya had always known that beginnings were the most dangerous part.
Slowly, Aliya felt her fears and overthinking start to fade. She could feel herself trusting Arman, letting his words and reassurances seep into her heart. It seemed as if her entire world had found its anchor Arman was no longer just someone she liked; he had become her destination, the place where she wanted her life to unfold. Yet, a small part of her was still hesitant, afraid of whether she could truly adjust to someone thirteen years older than her.
But Arman had begun to soothe those doubts with his words, gently convincing her that she would be happy, that they could build a beautiful life together. His presence, even through simple messages, carried a sense of security that Aliya hadn't felt before. And slowly, she started believing that maybe, just maybe, this was where she belonged.
Her mother, however, had warned her more than once. You shouldn't share so much with Arman on Snapchat. You shouldn't tell him about TikTok or send all those pictures in sarees. But Aliya's mindset was different. She wanted him involved in everything, to feel included, to be sure of him. And he was doing exactly that assuring her, giving her that certainty she craved.
Her friends, on the other hand, were often skeptical. That boy isn't right for you. If you don't like TikTok, you can stop making it. You should have your own choices, your own voice. They reminded her that expressing herself was never wrong, and that a mature man like Arman, who had already lived much of his life, would understand boundaries. Even with all these warnings, Aliya's heart remained loyal to Arman. She trusted him, keeping her mind and soul clear, because deep down, she liked him she was drawn to him, attached to him in a way that scared her sometimes. She feared that if something went wrong later, her heart would shatter in ways she couldn't imagine.
Days passed like this, slowly, casually texting back and forth, and with every message, Aliya felt her heart stirring, feelings for Arman quietly growing stronger.
Then, on the night of August 22, a message from Arman appeared near 2 a.m.
"Are you sleeping?"
She replied honestly, "No."
He texted back, "My brother and sister-in-law are coming your way. They want to see you."
Immediately, her anxiety spiked. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she typed a simple "Hmm."
"No excitement?" he asked.
She quickly replied, "No, no… very excited."
In truth, her heart was racing. What if they came and saw their little house and didn't approve? What if they didn't like her, or the house, or something else entirely? Old fears she'd always carried about people visiting her home for wedding purposes came rushing back.
Her drawing room wasn't even properly set up yet. The thought of their arrival made her anxious, though she knew it was mostly her own mind spinning into overdrive. She realized it her thoughts were amplifying the fear but that didn't stop the nervous flutter in her chest.
Days passed slowly, messages back and forth becoming part of their routine. Casually texting, Aliya felt a subtle warmth bloom in her chest whenever Arman's name appeared on her screen. Every word, every joke, every simple "how are you?" carried a weight of comfort she hadn't realized she craved. Slowly, she was learning to trust him, to let her feelings grow alongside their conversations.
Then, on August 25, a little after midnight, a message from Arman popped up:
"I'm thinking. But I think I had to discuss some other things with you too."
"Like?" she replied, curious.
"Like… look, you asked me, right, what kind of nervousness I feel? So I want to talk about it."
Aliya felt a little flutter. "Sure," she typed back. "Tell me what you're feeling."
"I know you're tired and all, but I made myself mentally prepared today to talk about it. Fine, so I'm going to say it all."
"No worries. I'm here to hear you," she reassured him.
And so, Arman began, opening up about fears he had never shared with anyone else. Aliya, in turn, found herself letting down her guard:
"Honestly, I get a little afraid to talk so openly with you," she admitted, "but I know I have to, because the purpose of us talking is to truly understand each other. Arman, your past doesn't matter to me not even a little. I swear I mean it with my whole heart. I'm not the kind of person who judges someone for their past. What makes me nervous is not us, but what people might say… because they will talk, surely. Our families, extended relatives… even though my parents haven't told anyone yet except my grandparents, one day everyone will know. And that thought makes me anxious."
She paused, then continued, pouring her heart into the messages:
"I come from a small, decent family. It means the world to me. My parents have always tried their best to fulfill our wishes, giving us a beautiful life. Marrying you is completely my decision, without any pressure, and my family is happy with it. That means everything. I don't ever want anyone to question my reasons or say I married you for anything but love."
Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed:
"You are the first man to come into my life honestly. That makes me happy, but also a little scared. I fear getting too attached and having my heart break one day. But deep down, I believe in us, in the promises we are making. I just want us to protect this bond with all our hearts and keep each other safe, always."
Arman replied carefully, thoughtfully, each word steadying her heart:
"I understand your concerns, and I'm happy you're talking about them. You should always speak to me, Aliya, and tell me what you're thinking. When something bothers you, even if it's small, I will make sure to do everything in my power to put your mind at ease. As for what people might say… I can't control that. But honestly, I don't care. What matters is you, and your happiness. My family will take care of you. Close relatives like cousins are nice, and the rest… they don't matter. I will protect you in this."
He continued, reassuring her of the foundation of their bond:
"Loyalty and respect matter most. Love is the foundation. I don't have doubts about us. At first, the age difference worried me, but talking to you reassured me. You are mature, extroverted, and enjoy life it's a beautiful quality. Life is not supposed to be boring. What matters is how close we are to Allah."
Aliya felt herself relax a little, a warm sense of relief spreading inside her chest as she read:
"I want our marriage to be based on Islam. We should follow deen in every sphere of our life and take guidance from religion while enjoying life. We have only talked on the phone, and yes, we should talk more, but I want to keep it limited until our nikkah. I am sure about us, but I want it as Islamic as possible. This is a beautiful relationship, and Allah chose us for each other. I trust Him fully."
Aliya replied, voice light in her fingers:
"I'm not extremely religious, and I don't consider myself a perfect Muslim. But I was raised in an Islamic-oriented family. Even though we were allowed to enjoy life, my parents also taught us a lot about Islam."
Arman's words came back with gentle encouragement:
"No one is perfect. Neither am I. We should see this as completing half of our deen. We remind each other of prayers, help each other grow closer to Allah… that matters most. Life here isn't easy for that, especially raising kids in a good Islamic environment. I want my partner to be determined in ensuring that. And if I miss fajr, I want you to ask me about it, and if I wake up early, I want you to pray with me."
Aliya felt a soft warmth in her chest. "Inshallah, we will," she typed, smiling to herself.
"I've been trying to be a little mature for you," she admitted, "speaking sensibly, avoiding upsetting you. But that's not really me. I see how mature, intelligent, and sensible you are. Sometimes I feel I'm nowhere close. Still, I want to be myself with you always. Your choices matter to me the most, and no matter what, you are the most important person."
Arman reassured her with ease:
"You don't have to think too much. Be yourself. I don't expect you to think like me, and if something bothers me, I'll say it."
Aliya exhaled, relief flooding her: "Thank you so much. I feel so light now after talking to you. Sorry, I know you traveled today and I disturbed you."
"It was a nice conversation," he replied simply. "Tell me, how do you feel now? Even though we haven't talked much apart from 'how are you' and 'how was your day.'"
A smile spread across her face as she typed: "Honestly, when I first heard your age, I was shocked and scared I couldn't even eat the whole day. But after talking to you, I feel really, really good. You're truly a nice person. Maybe if it were someone else in your place, it wouldn't have felt this good at all. I always imagined my partner just a few years older… but you… you're different. In a good way."
Arman chuckled through the messages: "I'm not very serious. I love enjoying life too. I don't talk much, but with people I'm comfortable with, I open up. I'm happy with who I am. I don't like being too frank with everyone."
Aliya grinned: "Don't be. I don't want you to be frank with others. Be that way only with me. Be happy, frank with me only."
He teased back: "Then you'll have to see me every day to get my frankness. No choice "
Aliya rolled her eyes through the screen: " As if… we'll see tomorrow, or whatever."
He laughed: "Haha, I was joking too. You said a few things yourself."
"Tooooo," she replied with a smile, before adding, half-seriously, "If you trouble me too much, I'll leave you and go to your mom."
"Leave me and go to my mom? " he texted immediately.
"Okay, fine. I won't go. I was joking," she quickly reassured him.
"Don't joke like that. If we ever have an issue, we talk it out. I know it was a joke, but just saying," he replied, smiling through the words.
"I could never leave you now . No issues will come between us," she typed firmly.
"InshaAllah," he responded.
"You should try to sleep early too. I'm going to sleep now," he added.
"Okay, goodnight "
"Goodnight "
"And thank you so much. I'm glad you came into my life out of nowhere "
"Haha, I'm glad I found you," he replied simply.
"I actually have something I want to talk to you about too, but maybe tomorrow," he added.
"Okay, we'll have a good sleep," she replied, a soft smile lingering on her lips.
A few days later, Arman's brother and sister-in-law came to meet Aliya's family and then left. They seemed nice polite, educated, and well-mannered. From day one, her family hadn't questioned anything about Arman's past or his family background, not even when they visited her home. Aliya herself felt no need to ask; it didn't matter what had happened in the past. Even though Arman and his family repeatedly encouraged her to ask anything she wanted, she couldn't feel the need. After talking to him, she hadn't found anything unusual, so there was nothing to question.
But after his family's visit, something changed. For the first time, Arman didn't text her for three straight days. He had seemed excited about his brother coming to visit, and then, after the visit, silence. Aliya found herself waiting anxiously for a message from him, expecting him to share how his family felt about her.
Trusting her instincts, she knew she hadn't looked her best that day. The pictures his sister-in-law had taken captured her dull, serious expression, not her usual self. A nagging thought crept in maybe he saw the photos and didn't like me, maybe now he's unsure. Her mind raced with worry.
Finally, she couldn't wait any longer and reached out:
"Hi, how are you? No message from your side. I thought I did or said something which upset you. Is everything good?"
Minutes later, Arman replied:
"Hi. I am fine. Nothing as such. How are you? I've been a bit busy with work, and Lara was with me today."
Aliya exhaled quietly, relief mingling with lingering nerves. "Alhamdulillah, good," she typed back.
Arman then asked, "How was it, meeting with family?"
Aliya smiled as she responded, "You were so right I was overthinking for no reason. Everything went super well. Your family was really nice. But lowkey, I'm curious what they thought about me."
Arman reassured her, "I've heard only good things. Didn't get to speak much back home. Had a short call with my brother. This is what we talked about."
Aliya felt a flicker of worry at his mention of the call. She didn't like the reaction she imagined he had, but she forced herself not to overthink. After all, nothing serious had happened, and deep down, she trusted him.
One day, Aliya felt that she had to ask Arman about why he got divorced. Her instinct told her to ask; she sensed that he was a bit more serious or even angrier than usual. Even though he hadn't said anything like that to her, she couldn't shake the feeling. She thought that if they were going to spend their lives together, they needed to be completely open with each other.
So on September 23, she carefully texted him. She chose her words thoughtfully and made sure to tell him that he didn't have to answer if he wasn't comfortable. Aliya herself was unsure and a little afraid maybe I shouldn't ask this, she thought. But Arman responded calmly, "It's fine. It's your right to know."
He then shared the reason for his divorce, and after that, they slept.
On their next conversation, Aliya asked if he would be okay with getting married after a year. Arman replied, "Can I share a reason?"
She quickly said, "No, there's no reason."
She had found him a bit stern at that moment, and a thought crossed her mind maybe he was abusive in his past relationship. Immediately, she felt foolish for even thinking it. How dumb am I, she thought.
Later, Arman texted her: "I still don't understand why you felt I could be abusive in my previous marriage. We've had very little interaction, and I wanted to keep it that way before marriage. I think I told you that as well."
Aliya quickly replied, "I didn't say it because I was judging you, or that I actually think that way about you. No! I just know that in today's era, divorces often happen because of abusive relationships. That's why my intuition brought that thought to my mind. I just wanted clarity. I'm sorry if it felt personal that was never my intention."
Arman reassured her: "I am not taking it personally, but I did feel a bit strange about it. You have no idea what I have been through. A person who is abusive would never openly admit they were abusive that's why the marriage ended.
Aliya felt relieved and typed, "No, you did nothing to make me feel that way. I just didn't know how to ask properly, and I'm embarrassed. I'm really sorry."
Arman replied: "It's okay. If you want to know, I'm not getting married just because I want to get married. I'm in no hurry. I liked you when I spoke to you, but I am a bit concerned about certain things, and I think I should mention them now."
Aliya gently said, "I want us to close this topic on a good note and sleep peacefully."
Arman then said, "If you have any concerns about my daughter, you can tell me frankly. Don't feel it's awkward to talk about that. It's better to discuss now."
Aliya reassured him: "You never gave me negative vibes. I just didn't expect it to become such a sensitive topic. I'm embarrassed, sorry."
Arman continued, "I have a strong feeling that her mother might eventually give her up, and I will always be there for her. There might be a situation in the future when she is with me full-time, and if that becomes a problem, I would like to know."
Aliya felt a sudden rush of protectiveness and love: "Oh my God, that's so hard. I never think about Lara in a negative way. Even when I told my mother I want her to live with us, I never imagined anything bad. You're making me feel guilty by even asking that."
Arman clarified, "Not negative. I mean, only if you feel it would be too much if she is with me full-time."
Aliya responded firmly, "How can I ever think badly about a toddler?"
Arman said, "I don't know if it would ever happen, but it could. I've been noticing some things, and I want to be prepared if it does."
Aliya smiled softly as she wrote, "I could never be afraid or anxious when it comes to your daughter not even from the very beginning, even before I started talking to you. Actually, I feel even safer if she stays with us all the time."
Arman replied, "Good to know."
Aliya then admitted, "As far as the abusive thought, that was just in me. I'm a little afraid of marriage itself, not because of you. Sometimes, even when you're not part of my life, these thoughts come. I think I didn't explain my thoughts properly or ask them the right way. I tried really hard to choose the right words and the right tone."
Arman reassured her: "Don't worry too much about that. I just wanted to clarify about Lara because I am worried about her."
Aliya nodded to herself and wrote, "I totally understand that. We can have different points of view on anything, but when it comes to supporting you for Lara, you can always count on me. I think we've sorted it out now. If you have any other thoughts, you can say them now."
Arman replied finally, "I don't have anything else to sort out."
And then they said Goodnight to each other.
But Aliya couldn't stop thinking about him all night. She liked Arman so much that she felt she could do anything for him. Yet a small fear lingered what if he left her? What if all her trust and hope vanished?
Arman always seemed so controlled Emotionally, and that control both drew her in and unsettled her. She wondered if he truly felt the same way, or if she was imagining it. After their conversation, a small relief eased her heart, but the fear didn't disappear completely.
She clung to his words, to the way he spoke about his daughter, and to the promise that he would always be there. Still, deep down, Aliya knew something was fragile. The calm she felt tonight might not last forever. And in the quiet of her room, her heart whispered that the story with Arman could change someday, unexpectedly.
Aliya: Hii, how r you doing?
Arman: Hi. I'm fine. How about you?
Aliya: Fi9 too.
Arman: How is everything going?
Aliya: Fi9.
He paused a bit. Then he said:
Arman: Why send me a message if you are going to send one-word answers?
Aliya: I thought u were busy.
Arman: At this time?
Aliya: I'm not sure, but it's possible that you can be.
He stayed quiet for a moment.
Arman: Ok.
Aliya thought: Why is he so serious? I was just trying to be polite. Maybe he's annoyed because I didn't reply earlier? But I honestly didn't mean anything…
Aliya: Tbh I'm a bit annoyed cz you didn't have a min to text me back in the last 5 hrs.
Arman: I am annoyed as well due to the recent behavior. I was talking to you the other day about waking up early and you probably didn't like it and just shut the conversation and said goodnight. Then didn't message for a few days.
Aliya: So you were just giving me space for the whole week?
Arman: I had sent you uni names. You saw my message and didn't say anything at all, and then didn't message for a few days until I messaged.
Aliya thought: I didn't even think about not replying to him. I wasn't ignoring him… I just didn't want to disturb him. But he's taking it so seriously. Was it really that big a deal?
Aliya: I mean, srsly… you're just giving reactions to my actions without knowing the whole thing.
Arman: Don't imply that. I am taking my own space. I didn't give you any reaction then, as I wasn't sure. But this happened again, which makes me concerned. Over such a small thing.
Aliya: You know what I was feeling? Maybe I just said something weird, that's why you didn't text on Saturday or Sunday. Maybe you were busy, that's why I also didn't try to text you.
Arman: I send you uni names on Monday.
Aliya thought: Why does he keep bringing this up? I wasn't trying to hurt him… I never imagined he would feel this way. He's overthinking everything I do…
Aliya: I don't even think about it after that night. I'm just… gathering words to talk to you. I'm not ghosting you, trust me.
Arman: Don't you think you should say something when I shared the uni names? And when we talked about waking up early—it was strange.
Aliya: I'm not offended by the early waking up thing. I thought we were just having a conversation. I'm not a morning person, but I manage if I have to. For my husband, family… there's no point I will not wake up. I didn't say goodnight because I wasn't offended.
Aliya thought: I can't make him understand. He keeps thinking I'm upset or annoyed. I'm trying so hard to show him I care, to be careful with my words, but somehow… it's never enough. He still feels I'm rude or distant.
Arman: I am probably the one who doesn't understand. You send me one-word answers which makes the other person feel that you aren't interested. When I asked, you answered in a way that I won't get hurt.
Aliya: Fine, my bad.
Aliya thought: He's holding on to everything—the words I said by mistake, the times I didn't text immediately… even small things now feel like a mountain to him. How did we get here?
Aliya: Btw, I texted you on Wednesday too.
Arman: Yes, I didn't respond, which was rude.
Aliya: You're rude to me a lot of times. I never complain even though I feel a lot. I always feel chuffed talking to you.
Arman: Give me examples, when I was rude?
Aliya thought: I shouldn't have said "abusive" before. I apologized multiple times, but he keeps reminding me. Why does he keep bringing up all these small things?
Aliya: I was not messaging you because I don't want to feel like a burden.
Arman: When have I said you are a burden on me?
Aliya: I don't remember exactly, but I remember you were rude… what if one day you get tired of me? That's why I don't…
Arman: It's just the same thing. I didn't do anything to you, yet you assumed I might be abusive.
Aliya: I don't need silly reasons to not text you, like the waking up thing.
Aliya thought: He's so sure about his feelings, about his assumptions. He can't see mine. I am trying, really trying, to meet him halfway… but it feels like walking on a tightrope.
Aliya: Look, after all the discussion, what I learn is… never just assume things. Just tell the other person. I have flaws, everyone has, but we can't keep guessing each other's minds.
Arman: That's exactly the point.
Aliya: You're trying, and I'm trying too, to make you feel good.
Arman: All these conversations were not supposed to happen in the first place.
Aliya thought: I believed we sorted things… I thought he understood me. But something shifted tonight. Something changed in him… something small, subtle… but it's there. And I don't know how long it will stay hidden before it becomes real.
Aliya: Yeah okay, have a good sleep. Goodnight
Arman: You too.
Aliya lay in bed after sending the last goodnight message, her phone resting silently beside her. The conversation replayed in her mind, every word echoing louder than it had in the chat. She felt a mix of relief and unease relief that she had spoken her truth, unease because she could still feel the tension in his words, the unspoken weight between them.
Why does it always feel like I'm walking on a tightrope with him? she thought. Like one wrong word, one small pause, could tip everything over…
She sighed, staring at the ceiling, remembering his pauses, his silences, and the way he held back as if guarding himself. He's different tonight… quieter… careful. But is it care, or something else? Something he's not ready to say yet?
A strange flutter rose in her chest, something between hope and fear. She didn't know if it was excitement or the shadow of worry, but it made her heart beat a little faster. I thought I understood him… but maybe, just maybe, I've only seen a part of him. The real Arman is still waiting somewhere… and I wonder… will I ever see it?
Aliya closed her eyes, but sleep didn't come easily. The night felt heavier, charged, like it was holding its breath, keeping secrets just out of reach. Tomorrow… or the day after… something will happen. I can feel it. And when it does… nothing will ever be the same.