ILYAS
No.
This can’t be true.
I couldn’t have. . . I couldn’t have married that man’s daughter.
I am running. I am running but I don’t know where my feet are taking me.
The sky is pouring rain, washing away any trace of tears, cleaning away any evidence for the world to see.
But all I can think is; why did I marry her?
Why the one woman I thought of settling with, thought of loving, had to be her?
