What We Were Never Meant to Be

There were rules in my house. Not the kind of rules people wrote down and pinned to a refrigerator. Ours didn’t need paper. They lived in the pauses between conversations, in the look my mother gave me when my skirt was too short, in the way my father cleared his throat when I came home ten minutes later than expected. They were simply understood. Be respectful. Be modest. Be home before dark. Don’t lie. Don’t bring shame to the family. And above everything else, remember God. I’d heard that last one so many times that I could still hear my mother’s voice saying it even when she wasn’t in the room. “Eleena, you are a young woman now. You have to remember who you are.” I always nodded. That was the easiest part. Nodding. Agreeing. Being the daughter they expected me to be. It was everything else that became difficult. Especially after Maya. But I didn’t know that yet. On the morning I met her, I was sitting at the kitchen table trying to finish breakfast while my mother watched me from across the room. “You’ll be back by six?”b I looked up from my phone. “Yes.” “Six, Eleena.” “I know.” “And you’re going straight home after class?” “Yes, Mum.” She gave me the look. The one that said she wasn’t convinced. “I don’t understand why university students always think they need to stay out so late.” “I’m not staying out late.” “You said that last week.” “I came home at six-thirty.” “Exactly.” I bit the inside of my cheek. There was no point arguing. My father walked into the kitchen, already dressed for work. He picked up his keys from the counter and kissed my mother’s forehead before turning to me. “Morning.” “Morning, Dad.” “How’s school?” “Fine.” “Just fine?” I smiled. “It’s good.” He nodded. “Focus on your studies. That’s why we’re paying all that money.” “I know.” “And don’t let friends distract you.” My mother looked at him. “Especially now,” she added. I knew what she meant. Everyone knew. I was twenty-one. Old enough, according to my family, to start thinking seriously about marriage. Not that anyone had said the word directly. They didn’t have to. The conversations had started months ago. So-and-so’s daughter was getting married. Someone’s son had finished university. A family friend knew a nice young man. My mother had started casually asking what qualities I wanted in a husband. My father had started reminding me that “a good woman” knew how to build a good home. I usually found a reason to leave the room. That morning was no different. I grabbed my bag. “I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.” My mother glanced at the clock. “You still have twenty minutes.” “I know.” She smiled knowingly. “Go.” I escaped before she could say anything else. ⸻ University was the only place where I felt like I could breathe. Not completely. But enough. There were no questions every time I laughed. No one cared if I spent an hour sitting under a tree instead of coming straight home. No one asked me who I was talking to on my phone. At least, most people didn’t. I was halfway across campus when I first saw Maya. She was sitting beneath a mango tree outside the lecture hall, one leg stretched out and the other bent, a book balanced against her knee. She wasn’t studying. I could tell. Her book had been open to the same page for at least five minutes. She was watching people walk past. I would have walked past too. If she hadn’t looked directly at me. Our eyes met. She smiled. I looked away. Then, for reasons I still don’t understand, I looked back. She was still looking at me. This time, her smile grew. “Hi.” I stopped. “Hi.” She pulled one earbud out. “You’re Eleena, right?” I frowned. “How do you know my name?” She shrugged. “We’re in the same class.” “We are?” “That’s slightly insulting.” I laughed before I could stop myself. She smiled like she’d been waiting for that. “I’m Maya.” “I know.” Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh?” I immediately regretted saying it. “I mean…” I adjusted the strap of my bag. “I’ve seen you around.” “Have you?” “Yes.” “Interesting.” “What?” “Nothing.” She closed her book. “You going to class?” “Yes.” “Can I walk with you?” I hesitated. It was ridiculous. She had asked to walk to class. That was all. There was nothing strange about it. Nothing dangerous. Nothing worth thinking about. “Sure.” She stood. And that was the first mistake I made. Not because Maya was dangerous. She wasn’t. But because walking beside her felt strangely natural. She talked constantly. About the lecturer. About how terrible the cafeteria coffee was. About a girl in our class who had apparently fallen asleep during the previous lecture. I mostly listened. Occasionally, I laughed. And every now and then, I caught myself looking at her. The way her hands moved when she talked. The way she smiled when she was amused. The little crease that appeared between her eyebrows when she was concentrating. Things I had no reason to notice. Things I would later wish I hadn’t noticed at all.