Whispers Of Hope:The Breaking Point.
349 Words
The journal entries had stirred something deep in Amara a storm she could no longer ignore. Evelyn’s grief, her silence, her longing… they mirrored too much of Amara’s own story.
And now, Amara couldn’t pretend anymore.
It was Saturday when she visited her uncle’s house the only real family she had left nearby. It had been months since she last went. The visit wasn’t planned. But maybe it never could’ve been.
Her hands trembled as she knocked.
When her uncle opened the door, his face stiffened. “Amara,” he said flatly.
She stepped inside before she could change her mind.
The house still smelled like old spice and fried yam. Familiar. But no longer warm. It hadn’t been warm since her mother died and her uncle turned cold.
She sat on the edge of the faded sofa, notebook in her lap.
“I’ve been reading someone’s story,” she began quietly. “And it made me realize I never got to tell mine.”
Her uncle looked confused.
Amara swallowed hard. “You remember when I moved in after Mum passed? You said you were doing me a favor. You said I should be grateful. But you never asked how I was feeling. You never saw me. Not really.”
He shifted uncomfortably.
“I needed love,” she said, voice shaking. “But I got judgment. I got silence. And I carried it all quietly because I didn’t want to be a burden.”
She stood up.
“I just wanted to say it. I don’t need anything from you. I’m just… letting go. For me.”
There was a long pause.
“You think I didn’t have my own pain?” he muttered.
“I know you did,” she said. “But that doesn’t excuse the way you erased mine.”
She left without slamming the door. Her tears came quietly. Not out of anger but release.
That night, Amara wrote again.
“Dear Evelyn,
Today I found a piece of my voice. It’s raw. It’s scared. But it’s mine. And I used it.”
- Writer
