The plates flew from her arms, shattering against marble. Porcelain shards cut across her hands as she tried to save a few and reduce the loud noise so that the guests do not get disturbed. The staircase echoed with the crash and eventually people started coming to witness what had unfolded in front of them. Adi’s weight slammed into her, and they tumbled against the step. The first thing he smelled was mehndi — sharp, earthy, clinging to her skin. For a split second, his face hovered above hers, and he noticed her eyes shut and her long slender nose, their breaths tangled. B ut soon he felt an impact to the ground and then her head struck the edge of the railing, and her body stumbled on the floor first. Their legs entertwined, which made Adis legs falter so that he fell face forward on Samaira, and she went limp beneath him. “Samaira!” Ayesha screamed from above.

"Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down... but why would he fall when I am here to catch and pray for him? Forever and ever—or so I thought. And here I am, sitting on the bed, waiting in the middle of the night for him to come, come where his home his and to tell me that all is well, but no its not and here I am left clearly confused about where life has brought me and where I can go from here, if not toward my downfall. My marriage is clearly failing, and today is the day to decide: should I stay or go, forever and ever? So, let's begin. Let’s go back to a time when I was happy—a time when I was alone. The silly streets, the muddy roads, and the trash on the outskirts of the buildings were where we truly called home. It was a small village, but in its simplicity, I felt whole. I remember the sea, its heat on us, and how close we lived, I could see it all. Our mothers were the best of friends, their laughter filling the air like music. The aunts would joke, “One day, she’ll be his,” and everyone would laugh. And deep down, the words lingered in me, like a secret I didn’t yet understand. It wasn’t love—not yet—but it planted a seed in my heart. I found myself praying, whispering to God, “Whoever is meant for me, bless him first. Let him be whole before he comes to me. For I am hollow—as hollow as one can be—and I need someone who can fill the cup that is only halfway full.” But life and its humor. Who could have known he would take that water and shatter the glass he got for free? That he would pour himself into every other cup that crossed his path, leaving me empty. For I am just a fragment now, a shard of what I used to be.