Samira’s POV
There are silences that feel heavier than words.
Lately, the house was full of them.
Abubakar no longer lingered in my sitting room after dinner. He still smiled, still asked how my day was, but his eyes drifted elsewhere to his phone, to the clock, to thoughts that no longer included me.
I used to know his silences. I could tell when he was tired, when he was thinking about work, or when he missed Madina. But this one, this new quiet, it frightened me. It was gentler, softer… the kind people keep when they’re protecting something precious.
And I knew then, it wasn’t me.
It began one afternoon. I was arranging my makeup shelf, a small ritual I kept to feel in control. I heard his phone buzz on the bed. Once, twice, then silence.
It wasn’t unusual. But my heart still bet
