Will We Be Together?

It was a bright sunny day when I first noticed her—a girl in a white hijab laughing freely with her friends. Her face was like a magnet; I couldn’t stop thinking about her every morning before school. My gloomy days suddenly felt lighter just because she existed. But all of that changed when someone who hated me spread a nasty rumor.

Out of nowhere, I got accused of harassing a classmate. Nobody stood up for me—well, except her. But her voice and mine didn’t matter; nobody believed us. I gave up, I ran away. After the whole ordeal, the school decided to expel me. My high school life, which barely lasted a year was over.

At home, things weren’t any better. I lived with my dad and stepmom, but my dad had ignored me ever since my mom passed away. It felt like I was invisible to him. After getting kicked out of school, I decided to leave home for good. Before leaving, I wrote a note for my childhood best friend Arya who’s practically my brother. I begged him to keep my whereabouts a secret. He just stood there, holding back tears, as I walked away.

I wandered aimlessly, broke and lost. My money? Down to 5 dollars. I stopped at a small mosque to rest, my body heavy with exhaustion. Just as I was dozing off, someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was an old man. He asked what I was doing there. Moved by his concern, I spilled everything that had happened to me. He listened with genuine sympathy and gave me an address to a nearby boarding school, saying it might help me.

Following his advice, I arrived at the place and hesitantly approached one of the students. Soon, the headmaster came out and invited me inside. After I told him my story, he welcomed me and made me part of their community.

I spent years there, studying and working to contribute to the school. Time flew and eventually, it was time to think about college. My headmaster handed me a brochure for a scholarship in Yemen. Intrigued, I decided to apply. The test day loomed closer and I prepared myself with all I had. A few weeks later, I nervously checked the results. To my surprise, I got in! Overwhelmed with gratitude, I rushed to tell my headmaster who was just as thrilled.

After sorting out the documents, I randomly opened my old Facebook account. That’s when I saw it—messages from "Azira". My heart stopped. One message revealed the truth: after I left school, the real culprit was found. I was innocent all along. Another message mentioned she’d gotten into university to pursue her dream of becoming a teacher. I was so happy for her and thanked her deeply for standing by me.

Fast forward four years in Yemen, it was finally time to return home. After graduation, I went back to the boarding school to say goodbye to my headmaster, who gave me his blessing to return to my hometown.

The journey home took 10 hours, but when I arrived, my house was empty. Confused, I went straight to Arya to ask what was going on. He explained that my dad and his new family had moved two years ago because my stepbrother needed to be closer to his college. Before leaving, my dad left the house for me. Arya handed me the key.

I spent the night cleaning and reminiscing, finally crashing into bed. Out of curiosity, I opened Facebook again. Scrolling through Azira’s messages, my chest tightened. She told me she was in the hospital battling leukemia. Her gut feeling told her she didn’t have much time left. She left her address, just in case I ever came back.

Without wasting a second, I rushed there. At her house, I met her mom—a kind woman who broke into tears when I introduced myself. She invited me in and explained everything. Azira had passed away a year ago while working on her thesis. Before she died, she left a diary for me. Her mom handed it over.

Page by page, I read her thoughts, my tears falling nonstop. She had feelings for me all along, just like I did for her. Once I calmed down, I asked where she was buried. Turns out, her grave was near my house. I thanked her mom and headed straight there.

As I stood by her grave, my heart ached with longing. The sky darkened, and rain poured down, drenching me completely as I whispered prayers for her. Deep inside, I wished I could be with her.

On my way home, everything went black. A car hit me, and I felt my body dragged across the pavement. Faintly, I heard voices around me before everything faded.

In the darkness, a bright light appeared and Azira’s face emerged from it. She smiled at me and said, “InsyaAllah, we’ll be together.” I cried, seeing her again, even though I didn’t fully understand her words.

In the real world, doctors tried to save me, but my time had come. I passed away.

The next morning, they buried me near my home—next to Azira’s grave. I watched from above as they laid me to rest. Turning to her grave, I saw her smiling and waving at me. That’s when I finally understood what she meant. We were together now—forever.