STOLEN SINS.

EPISODE 4: Echoes of us

It wasn’t always like this — with the anger, the distance, the walls we’ve built between each other. Once, there was only love.

College. A place where everything should’ve felt like it was full of possibilities. But for me, it was more of a survival game — just another place where I could disappear into the crowd. I wasn’t like the others. I didn’t come from money. I didn’t have connections, friends who lived for the parties, the glamour of campus life.

But then there was Azael.

He wasn’t like the other guys either. Tall, brooding, always keeping to himself. But there was a depth to him, something that drew me in even when I was too scared to admit it. Azael wasn’t rich, he wasn’t from a family of privilege. He worked at a supermarket on weekends, stocking shelves, mopping floors, doing whatever he could to get by. I’d pass him on my way home from classes, seeing him with a worn-out apron, his sleeves rolled up as he worked under the harsh fluorescent lights. He didn’t ask for help, and yet, I knew he needed it.

I was in the same position. Struggling to make ends meet. The cost of tuition, the late-night study sessions, and the weight of everything I was trying to escape from back home made it hard to even get through the day.

But I helped him, anyway. It started simple — I’d pick up extra shifts with him at the store when I could. Sometimes, I’d walk in just to grab a coffee, and we’d end up chatting for hours. I’d help him with his studies too, sharing notes, explaining things that the professors seemed to breeze through. And he’d teach me things too — how to be strong when the world was constantly trying to break you down, how to keep going even when you felt like you didn’t have anything left to give.

We leaned on each other in ways no one else ever did. And slowly, imperceptibly, the lines blurred. The friendship we built turned into something more. The stolen moments between shifts, the soft smiles, the way he’d always make sure I got home safely. I would never forget the nights we spent just walking through the city after his shift ended, laughing about everything and nothing, the world suddenly feeling like it wasn’t so heavy when we were together.

It wasn’t long before I realized I was falling for him, completely and helplessly. And one night, under the dim streetlights after another late shift, Azael told me he felt the same. I didn’t need fancy words, just the way his hand brushed against mine, the way his eyes softened when they met mine.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Noura,” he said, his voice low, steady. “You’re different. You make the world feel... like it could be something more than just surviving.”

I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t need one. The way he held me in that moment was enough. The world didn’t matter. Just us. Just the way we fit together, perfectly, as if we had always belonged to each other.

We were a team. We were in love.

He worked harder than anyone I knew, trying to make a life for us both, dreaming of a future where we could leave behind the struggle. I helped him. He helped me. We talked about everything — the future, our plans, the life we wanted to build.

But somewhere along the way, things started to change. The stress, the pressures of the outside world, the constant juggling of jobs and studies, slowly wore us down. He started staying late at work, his shifts stretching longer, his hours becoming unpredictable. I started feeling the distance between us, not in the things we said, but in the way we had less time for each other. The laughter grew quieter, the smiles more strained.

I tried to hold on. I tried to be patient. But something was slipping through our fingers — something neither of us was ready to admit.

Then, one day, Azael vanished.

No warning. No goodbye. Just gone. Like a shadow that had faded away, leaving only emptiness behind.

I didn’t understand it. I couldn’t. How could he leave me without a word? Without even a chance for us to fix whatever was breaking between us?

But in the back of my mind, something told me it wasn’t just me he was running from.

I tried to move on. I told myself I could live without him, but the truth was — I didn’t know how.

Azael was everything to me. And even now, months later, his absence still feels like a hole in my chest.