Technically Together
Mom didn’t say anything further, but I was curious about Faraz’s divorce. I messaged my friend, Raya, “Do you know anything about Faraz’s divorce?”
The moment she saw my message, she called me immediately.
As I answered, she gasped, “Is it true? Did he really get divorced? You’re not joking, right?” She sounded completely shocked, and from her voice, it was clear she had no clue about this—it seemed the news was still under wraps.
“My mom just told me,” I replied.
“Why? What happened?” she pressed.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Be honest, are you guys still together?” she asked, suspicion in her tone.
“Nooo,” I protested.
“You haven’t talked to him?” she asked again.
“No,” I repeated.
“Don’t lie,” she teased.
“Why would I lie?” I shot back.
“You never explained the reason for your breakup,” she continued.
“Because we didn’t technically break up,” I revealed.
“What? What are you saying?” she asked, switching to a video call.
“What do you mean you didn’t break up?” she asked, staring at me intently through the screen.
“I told him I was leaving the country, and he said he was getting married, but neither of us ever said, ‘We’re done.’” I confessed. “Honestly, I still can’t believe we ever really broke up,” I added.
She started piecing things together, thinking aloud. “So, couples need to verbally say they’re breaking up, or at least text it, right? Otherwise, they’re still technically together,” she mused. “Wait, let me Google this.”
After a quick search, she confirmed, “Yep, Google says the same thing.”
Then, with a mischievous grin, she said, “Let me put on my detective hat and figure out why they got divorced. After that, we’ll decide if you two are really over or not.”
I stayed silent.
“Are you still in love with him?” she asked.
I didn’t answer.
“Hello? Are you still in love with him?” she repeated.
“I don’t think so,” I finally said.
Just then, a message popped up on my screen from Sultan: “You still haven’t shared the full story about why you’ve moved to the UK and didn’t return for three years.” I ignored it.
“Alright, let me make some calls and dig into this,” she said, hanging up. When we were kids, she always dreamed of being a detective, and whenever there was a mystery to solve, she’d be right at the front, passionately chasing every clue.
Sometimes, the hardest part is believing the story we thought was over isn’t finished yet; we realize ‘the end’ was just an intermission.
100th Day
One more message popped up from Sultan: “Are you there?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“What’s your story?” he asked again.
I began to share: “When I was in 10th grade, we were told not to wear uniforms for four months. One day during that time, a boy handed me a folded piece of paper. When I opened it, I was shocked—it was a perfect sketch of me in the blue dress I wore the day before. At the bottom, it read ‘With love’ and was signed ‘Fz.’ From that day on, I started receiving a new portrait every single day, always of what I was wearing. My friend Raya and I tried to figure out who was behind it. Raya even put on her ‘detective coat,’ but after a month, we still had no leads.
On the 42nd day, we finally got a clue—the artist wasn’t a student at our school. But he clearly saw me regularly since he could capture my outfits every day. Today, I was wearing green, and sure enough, I received my 99th portrait—this time, in a green dress. Tomorrow, the uniform policy is back, and I’ll be wearing a uniform again, so the artist will have no choice but to sketch that instead.
Raya and I talked it over. ‘I followed the boy who gave you the sketches for three days,’ she said, ‘but it’s no use. He claims to know who it is but refuses to tell.’ She then added, ‘Supposedly, on the 100th day, the artist will finally reveal himself.’
I was nervous. ‘Today is the 100th day,’ I told Raya, my heart racing.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, trying to calm me down.
‘Is my hair okay?’Face okay?” I asked.
‘Are you serious? If you were holding a tea tray, this would feel like a bride-seeing ceremony,’ she joked. Then, she gave me a sly look and said, ‘What about your neighbor, Faraz? Could it be him?’
‘No way,’ I quickly dismissed the idea, but before I could finish, she pointed ahead. ‘Look, he’s coming toward you.’
Faraz was walking straight in my direction, and I could hardly believe it. My heart raced as I stood up, feeling incredibly nervous. He handed me a white paper, and when I unfolded it, there was my portrait in a uniform. At the bottom, it read: ‘Will you be my girlfriend? If yes, keep this; if no, return it.’
I blushed, smiled, and without saying a word, I ran back to class with the paper in hand, which pretty much said it all—I loved him too. For the next four years, we were together.
But then things changed. I wanted to study abroad like many of my classmates. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and my parents were supportive. Faraz, however, wasn’t. ‘We can get married,’ he said. But I wasn’t ready for that. ‘I want to study,’ I told him firmly.
We argued about it, and after that, we didn’t speak for three days. When we finally met at the beach, he said, ‘My parents are looking for a bride for me, but I want to marry you.’
I stayed firm. ‘I’m not ready for marriage, I still want to study.’
The argument got worse, and this time, we stopped talking for a month. I was waiting for him to message me first, but he was waiting for me. Eventually, we met again at the beach. I told him I was flying out the next week. He said he was getting married the next month. That day, without saying it out loud, we both knew it was over. We never officially broke up—we just parted ways in silence.
When I arrived in the UK, I found out he had married. It had hurt so much that I stayed there for three years, trying to move on. Now, I’ve heard that he’s divorced. And that’s my story.”
When we parted ways, I thought that was it—the climax of our story. Little did I know we would one day say hello again, just like we did at the beginning of our love, and resume the love story that once felt like it had ended.
6th Accident
“Hit the accelerator a little, the cars behind are honking,” Dad said.
He was teaching me how to drive—for the fifth time. Every time he tried before, I ended up in an accident. The car still bears the scars of my mishaps: a long scratch on the back door, a broken bumper, a half-removed side mirror, and plenty more. My dad hasn’t bothered with repairs because he’s waiting for me to finally learn. It’s his old car, and he’s hoping to sell it once I master driving.
“I don’t think I’ll find a buyer for this car now. It’s headed straight for the scrap yard,” Dad sighed. “Take a right.”
I turned the steering wheel.
“Hala, that’s left! I said right!” Dad shouted.
“Oh, right… I always get confused,” I muttered, biting my lip.
“Who gave you a license?” He smacked his forehead. “I don’t know if I have enough patience to keep teaching you.”
“Thank you. I never said I wanted to learn driving in the first place,” I snapped, glancing at him while still driving.
“Keep your eyes on the road!” Dad warned. My face was still scrunched in frustration.
“Hit the brake,” he instructed.
But instead, I pressed the accelerator by mistake.
“You need to learn the ABCs of driving before you even get on the road,” he grumbled.
I took another turn.
“It’s a one-way—” Before he could finish, my car crashed into another. It was my sixth accident. “I don’t know why this car hates me so much. Every time I drive it, something goes wrong. I hate this car!” I groaned.
“The problem isn’t the car—it’s you! You don’t know how to drive!” Dad yelled, stepping out to inspect the damage.
“I give up!” he muttered, exasperated. “Like all dads, I wanted to see my daughter driving, but I think it’s a dream that’s too big. Let’s leave it as just that—a dream.”
As he walked over to talk to the other driver, I froze when I saw who it was—Faraz.
Oh no! Of all the cars on the road, why did I have to hit his? Dad was talking to him for what felt like an eternity, around 10 minutes. Faraz didn’t even glance at me once. I couldn’t help but stare at him—he looked so different from before. More handsome, with a neat police-style mustache, longer hair, and a new sense of style. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
As Dad finally made his way back, Faraz looked at me and, to my surprise, gave me a teasing smile.
My dad must have told him about all six accidents. That’s why he laughed. I felt embarrassed. How will I face him now?
Great, now I’m going to be the laughing stock of the city, and Dad will definitely spread the news. He joked about my last five accidents too—that’s probably why I lost interest in driving. I hate this car, and I’m convinced it hates me back.
But then, Faraz looked at me and smiled. And for some reason, I felt happy about it. Why do I feel this way? What is this new feeling?
Sometimes, I just don’t know what my heart truly desires, but it will always reveal its feelings through the strings of happiness.
Here are 7 lessons we can learn from Hala’s story:
- Unspoken Goodbyes Can Leave Unfinished Stories
Hala and Faraz never officially broke up, which left their relationship unresolved. Sometimes, the lack of closure can keep old feelings lingering, reminding us that some stories may not end until we consciously close the chapter.
- Moving On Doesn’t Mean Forgetting
Though Hala moved to the UK and stayed there for three years, trying to heal, the past still resurfaced when she learned about Faraz’s divorce. Time and distance don’t always erase emotional connections.
- Communication Is Key in Relationships
Faraz and Hala’s relationship faltered when they stopped communicating. They both made decisions without consulting the other, which ultimately led to their unspoken breakup. Clear communication can prevent misunderstandings.
- Follow Your Dreams, Even If It’s Hard
Hala chose to pursue her studies, despite Faraz’s wish to get married. Following your own path, even when it challenges your relationship, is crucial for personal growth.
- Life Has a Way of Bringing People Back Together
Whether it was fate or coincidence, Hala and Faraz’s paths crossed again after years apart. Life often has unexpected twists that can rekindle old connections when we least expect it.
- Embrace Your Imperfections
Hala’s struggles with driving and her many accidents may have embarrassed her, but her determination to learn and her father’s patience show that imperfections are part of growth. Mistakes are opportunities to learn.
- Feelings Can Resurface at Unexpected Times
When Faraz smiled at Hala after her accident, she felt a sense of happiness she didn’t expect. Emotions can catch us off guard, reminding us that the heart doesn’t always follow logic.
Life’s chapters may seem closed, but sometimes they’re just waiting for a second chance to be written.
A Question For Readers
Which moment in Hala’s story resonated with you the most, and how do you think unresolved relationships can impact future decisions?