Chapter 7 -the headache

**Amira pov**

Every morning not exactly every morning but most of the morning,I woke up with a pounding headache, the stress and guilt manifesting in physical pain. I knew it wasn’t normal, so I scheduled some tests at the hospital without the knowledge of my friends. But the results came back clear, leaving me more frustrated than ever.

I consulted with my colleagues in the medicine department, but no one could give me a definitive answer. They suggested it might be stress-related, but I knew it was more than that. It was the weight of my unresolved past, the constant reminder that I hadn’t closed the door on my marriage, that I was living in a limbo of my own making.

———————-

With my ring out of sight, I allowed myself to fully embrace my feelings for Ryan. We started spending more time together, and our bond grew stronger with each passing day. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and it felt like a natural progression from our friendship.

Ryan was always attentive, making sure I was taking care of myself. He’d drop by the pediatric department with coffee or lunch, just to check in on me. The senior residents and inpatient kids teased us, but I didn’t mind. For the first time in a long time, I felt happy.

At Amira’s apartment,

I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts restless and tangled, refusing to settle into anything coherent. The phone in my hand felt heavy, a link to a world I wanted to escape but couldn’t. With a sigh, I dialed the familiar number, bracing myself for the voice on the other end, the one that always pulled me back into memories I had tried so hard to bury.

"Hello, David," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady, though I knew the tension I felt must have crept into my tone.

“Yes, madam,” David ’s voice was as polite as always, but I could sense the unspoken worries beneath her calm demeanor.

“Is my mom taking her tablets? Is she fine?” I blurted the questions out quickly, as if saying them fast enough could keep the emotions they carried at bay.

There was a pause, one that made my heart sink with dread.

“She’s never really been relieved from that incident, madam,” David finally responded, her tone weighted with concern. “And she’s been asking for you. Please come here.”

My heart clenched painfully at the mention of my mother. I knew exactly which incident Michele was referring to—the one that had shattered our lives and driven me to distance myself from everything I had once known. Since then, my mother’s condition had only worsened, a constant, painful reminder of a past I was desperate to forget.

“I’ll try,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. Even as I said the words, I knew they were empty. The idea of going back to that house, to the place where everything had fallen apart, made my stomach churn with anxiety.

After hanging up, I released a shaky breath, my chest tight with unresolved emotions. I closed my eyes, silently begging the memories to stay buried, but they surged forward anyway. I saw my mother’s eyes, once so full of life, now dull and haunted after that horrible day. I had left to protect myself, to find a way to breathe again, but the guilt had followed me, clinging to my every step like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

I turned onto my side, curling up in a vain attempt to block out the onslaught of thoughts. The bed felt too big, too cold, even as I pulled the blanket tighter around me, seeking comfort that wasn’t there. Sleep eluded me, my mind dragging me back to the past, to the house I had abandoned, and to the mother I had left behind.

I knew I should go back, if only for a visit. But the mere thought of facing my mother, of reopening those old wounds, filled me with fear. I wasn’t ready—not now, maybe not ever. The guilt gnawed at me, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. How could I move forward when the past still held me in its grasp?

With a heavy sigh, I sat up, rubbing my temples in a futile attempt to ease the tension. The silence of my apartment pressed in on me, the darkness seeming to close in from all sides.I turned the phone off and tossed it onto the nightstand, as if that could put some distance between me and the inevitable confrontation with my past.

I lay back down, staring into the dark, my thoughts a whirlpool of emotions that refused to settle. I knew I couldn’t avoid my mother forever, but the idea of going back, of facing everything I had run from, was overwhelming. I had built a new life for myself, far from the pain and sorrow that had once consumed me. But as I lay there, wide awake, I realized that no matter how far I ran, the past would always be a part of me. And until I faced it, I would never truly be free.

With that heavy realization pressing on my chest, I closed my eyes, hoping that sleep would finally come and give me a few hours of peace.