“The Gate of Patience

Chapter 2 – The First Glance I was thirteen at the time. I can’t say I wasn’t pretty — my braids hung below my knees, my skin was somewhere between golden and fair, and my eyes were filled with the purity and innocence of a child. So one day, I made a decision. I had to put an end to this silent shadow. That day, just like always, I felt him behind me as I left school. At the far end of the road, where the crowd faded and silence swallowed the noise, I stopped abruptly. I turned around and blocked his path. — Why do you keep following me? Because of you, my mother scolds me, beats me. Please, stop following me! My words were full of anger, but my voice trembled. He paused for a moment, then looked straight into my eyes. And in that gaze... time stood still. My anger vanished. His silence was no longer threatening — it was soft, steady, unshakable. In that fleeting moment, there were no accusations, no words — just two children, two hearts, and two eyes speaking louder than any voice. It was as if he had sensed the quiver in my eyes. He smiled, gently. And something inside me cracked open. It was the first time I had ever looked a boy in the eyes. I was scared, yet something warm and unfamiliar coursed through me. I lost myself in that feeling. I turned away and ran — my heart pounding, my mind racing with emotions I couldn’t name. From that day on, the boy walking behind me no longer bothered me. In fact, on days when I didn’t see him on the road, I felt a strange emptiness. It was as if his presence, once a cause of trouble, had become a silent comfort. When he wasn’t there, I felt exposed, alone. As time went on, he no longer just followed me from behind. Sometimes, he would walk alongside me, just on my right. Other times, he’d walk on the opposite side of the street, matching my pace. It felt like a companionship had begun between us — one without words, but full of meaning. He never spoke, and I remained silent too — yet in that silence, a new language was born. I was studying at a music school back then. Inside me, emotions were like musical notes — sometimes scattered, sometimes harmonizing. With every step, I felt myself growing closer to him. His quiet presence calmed me, like music — wordless, yet deeply felt. Chapter 2 – Silent Steps, a Love Spoken Through Eyes Days passed, one after another. That narrow, silence-filled path from school to home was no longer unfamiliar to me. It had become a repeated scene — he would walk behind me every day. I kept my head down like an obedient child, continuing my way in silence. But within that silence, there was a strange warmth. It felt like we were speaking without words with every step. One day, as I exited school and entered the familiar street, I sensed once again that he was behind me. When I reached the beginning of the path, I suddenly stopped. My unexpected move startled him. I turned around and said firmly: — Why are you following me? Because of you, my mother scolds and beats me every day. Stop coming! My words were sharp, maybe the voice of a young girl who couldn’t yet make sense of what she was feeling. But he remained silent. He just stared at me intently. In his eyes, there was neither fear nor embarrassment. In that moment, my breath caught; time seemed to freeze. My anger melted. His gaze somehow rooted me to the spot. Without understanding what was happening, I stepped back, looked away, and ran home. After that day, something changed inside me. Every morning on my way to school, every time I left class, my heart longed to feel his presence. When he wasn’t there, I felt a void. But when he was, I felt a strange comfort. As if this quiet boy walking silently behind me gave me a sense of safety. Eventually, he began walking slowly beside me on my right. Sometimes, he would walk on the opposite side of the street. We didn’t speak, not even a greeting passed between us. Yet with every step, we were growing closer. He, with his silent, calm affection — and I, with feelings I couldn’t yet name or fully understand. I was attending music school. Notes, the sound of the piano, the quiet practice sessions mixed with the emotions growing inside me. I was still learning the language of music, but I had already begun to understand the voice in his gaze. One day — an unforgettable day in May — was our graduation ceremony. It was the end of school life and the beginning of a new chapter. We went to the park with the girls. Laughter, photos, and memories floated in the air. He had come that day too. A little farther away from where we sat, he quietly watched us. In the evening, I had to leave early because village buses stopped running soon. I boarded the bus and sat down. A few moments later, three boys entered and sat in the back. I didn’t pay much attention until he came to the door of the bus and called them out. His gaze was sharp, his voice firm. He spoke to them harshly, as if protecting my honor — without saying a word to me. The boys got off. I continued my ride home, quietly full of gratitude and admiration. Chapter 3 — The Silence of a Voice and the Arrival of a Mother That evening, there was a strange tension at home. When I returned, I saw unease on my grandmother's face. My mother’s eyes were anxious; her voice tried to sound calm, but inside her, a storm was brewing. There was a knock at the door. When I opened it, I saw his mother standing there. Her eyes burned with anger, her breathing was rapid—not like she was in a hurry, but like she couldn't suppress the storm within her. A heavy silence filled the house. My grandmother and mother let her in, but their eyes clearly revealed their disapproval. That woman—his mother—looked like she had rehearsed what to say a hundred times before arriving. Still, the words came with difficulty. Her eyes shifted between me and the floor, and she spoke with hesitation. — I... I wanted to speak with your daughter... My son... today... he got into a fight in the park... The day replayed before my eyes like a movie. He had been watching me again in the park. Following me. And then... yes, a few boys looked at me—jealousy in their eyes, suggestive words thrown in my direction... He lost control without saying a word. His fists in the air, voice raised in a yell. He pushed one of them and grabbed another by the collar. Before I could even understand what was happening, it was over. The woman continued: — My son says he got into a fight because of your daughter. He says your daughter is leading him astray... Those words froze me in place. It felt like the blood in my veins turned cold. Such an unfair accusation! I pressed my lips together but stayed calm. I quietly said: — Your son is the one following me. I don’t talk to him. I haven’t done anything. Though my words were calm, they cut through the air like a knife. My grandmother and mother could no longer stay silent. My grandmother, in a firm voice, said: — My granddaughter keeps to herself, doesn’t bother anyone. Talk to your son first before coming to us with anything! The woman’s face showed regret—and a bit of confusion. She quickly stood up, as if she could no longer stay there. She walked to the door, then turned back toward me and said sharply: — Stay away from my son! She left... That night, the atmosphere in our home changed completely. My grandmother and mother now held anger in their eyes toward that boy. His name wasn’t even mentioned. It was as if I was the one to blame for everything. But strangely... the more people turned against us, the more we felt drawn to each other. Even if we didn’t speak, there was an unexplainable closeness in our glances. It was evening, and the house was quiet. The sounds from the street, the distant barking of dogs didn’t reach me. A strange feeling settled inside—a void, a nameless yearning... I hadn’t seen him since the holiday began. Someone no one cared about now consumed all my thoughts, my soul, my breath. My eyes searched the path, my heart looked for him. The holiday had started. School was out. I wasn’t going outside either. I was at home. But inside, I felt an unbearable longing. The ache of not seeing him, not catching even a single glance... It felt like I was suffocating without him. One day—in the middle of a quiet afternoon—the house phone rang... That ringing tore through the silence, made my heart leap. I held my breath as I picked up the receiver. — Hello? Hello? No response. A deep silence... It was as if someone on the other end was holding their breath, just listening. A strange feeling washed over me. The line was open, but silence was speaking. I hung up, but the tension didn’t leave me. My heart pounded in my chest. A few minutes later, the phone rang again. This time, my hands trembled. My breath quickened. I picked up the receiver again. — Hello... Hello? Still no answer. This time, a mix of excitement and irritation stirred in my chest. My lips were dry, but I bravely said: — Whoever you are, speak up—say something! After a few seconds of silence, a familiar, trembling, slightly restrained voice came through: — H-hi... It was like lightning struck inside me. A warmth rushed through my veins, and my heart fluttered like a scared bird. I knew this voice. It was his. The boy who silently walked behind me for days, who touched me with his gaze, who froze me with a smile... It was him. For a moment, I couldn’t say anything. I just listened. He was silent too. It was like we were speaking through silence—no words needed. Then, with a gentle and cautious tone, he asked: — How are you?.. At that moment, it felt like the biggest question in the world. My throat tightened, but I finally replied with a shaky voice: — Alhamdulillah... I’m okay... Silence again. He on one end, me on the other... and between us, a thousand unspoken feelings. A few seconds later, his voice returned—this time slightly braver, but still wrapped in fear and longing: — I want to see you... Those words sent a shiver through my whole body. My feet rooted to the floor, the receiver in my hand suddenly heavy. I wanted to rejoice, to hide, to fly, to cry—all at once. But among all these feelings, fear rose to the top. It felt like someone would hear us, see us, steal this moment from us. I quickly hung up. Yet even as I pulled my hand away, the warmth of the phone remained in my palm. I stared at the receiver. In that moment, he was the only one in the world. And this silent, screaming love... What happened that day, what we said, what I said—I never forgot any of it. That first call—our first conversation, the first touch through a voice...