Her purity
She fell first. She fell harder. Then, she fell even harder.
"Amaal, he's married!" my best friend Fatima shouted at me.
I met her gaze, unfazed. "I know, Fatima."
Her brows furrowed as she gripped my hand. "How can you love him? This happened four years ago! He's married now, Amaal. He has a one-year-old daughter. And if you really want him... you have to leave Kashmir."
I stood up, my voice unwavering. "I'm not going anywhere. Kashmir is my home."
Fatima's hand rested on my shoulder. "You have to go to Delhi for him. You know that, right?"
The moment she said *Delhi*, my hands and legs trembled. My breaths grew ragged, my voice barely a whisper. "I will never go to Delhi."
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I bolted to my room, locking myself inside.
Behind me, Fatima's voice broke through my panic. "Amaal, it's okay. You're not going to Delhi. Please, calm down!"
But how could I? Because *Delhi* wasn't just a place. It was a past I never wanted to return to.
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