Chapter 3: The Forbidden Dream
793 Words
Morning came too fast for someone who barely slept.
Amina had spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, replaying the letter in her mind. Every sentence had dug itself deeper into her thoughts, like it refused to leave her alone.
Your life is not as simple as you think.
Those words were now heavier than sleep.
When she finally stepped outside, the village looked the same—but she didn’t.
That was the strange thing about truth. It didn’t change the world immediately. It changed the way you saw it.
Her mother was already sweeping the compound. Her father was sitting outside, reading an old newspaper, his face calm as always—as if nothing in the world ever disturbed him.
But Amina felt like something had already cracked inside her.
---
“Good morning,” she said softly.
Her father didn’t look up. “Morning.”
Just one word. Flat. Controlled. Final.
Amina sat at a distance, pretending to adjust her sandals. But her mind was elsewhere.
She kept thinking about the letter.
About the warning.
About the hidden truth.
And then—
About leaving.
Not as a dream anymore.
As a need.
---
Zawadi arrived later that morning, slightly out of breath.
“You look different today,” she said immediately.
Amina forced a small smile. “Different how?”
“Like you didn’t sleep,” Zawadi replied, sitting beside her. Then she lowered her voice. “Did something happen?”
Amina hesitated.
This was the first time she felt afraid to speak—not because she didn’t trust Zawadi… but because speaking made things real.
“I found something,” she finally said.
Zawadi’s eyes widened slightly. “What kind of something?”
Amina looked toward the house before replying.
Then quietly:
“A letter.”
Zawadi leaned closer. “From who?”
Amina shook her head slowly. “I don’t know.”
That answer made Zawadi silent for a moment.
Then she asked carefully, “What did it say?”
Amina swallowed.
She wasn’t ready to repeat it out loud.
Not fully.
Instead, she said:
“That my life… is not what I think it is.”
Zawadi blinked. “That sounds… serious.”
“It is.”
Another silence.
Then Zawadi said something unexpected:
“Amina… are you thinking of leaving because of it?”
Amina looked at her.
And this time, she didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
The word hung in the air like something dangerous.
Zawadi looked at her for a long moment. Then she exhaled slowly.
“I knew this was coming,” she whispered.
Amina frowned. “What do you mean?”
Zawadi picked at the grass nervously. “You’ve been gone in your head for a long time. I just didn’t think you’d decide to follow it.”
Amina looked away.
“I can’t stay here,” she said quietly. “Something here is… not right.”
Zawadi didn’t argue this time.
Instead, she asked, “Where would you even go?”
“The city,” Amina replied. “Anywhere that feels like life is moving.”
Zawadi gave a small sad laugh. “The city is not a dream, Amina. It’s just a different kind of struggle.”
“I know,” Amina said. “But at least it’s my struggle.”
That statement made Zawadi go quiet again.
Because it made sense.
Too much sense.
---
From the house, her father’s voice called her name.
“Amina!”
Both girls froze.
Amina stood up quickly.
“I have to go,” she whispered.
Zawadi grabbed her hand for a second.
“Be careful,” she said again, but this time her voice was different. Not just warning—fear.
Amina nodded.
But as she walked away, something inside her was already forming.
A decision.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just final.
---
That night, everything changed.
Amina waited until the house was asleep. Not just quiet—deep asleep. The kind of sleep where even silence stops listening.
She packed slowly.
One small bag.
A few clothes.
Her notebook.
And something she hadn’t fully understood yet—the letter.
Her hands trembled as she placed it inside.
Outside, the wind moved softly through the trees.
It almost sounded like a goodbye.
---
She reached the door.
Paused.
Looked back at the room.
At the walls that had held her whole life.
At the bed where she had learned fear and silence.
At the life she was about to break away from.
Her heart beat hard.
For a moment, she almost went back.
Almost.
Then she whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
Not sure who she was apologizing to.
And stepped out into the night.
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🔥 END OF CHAPTER 3
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