Nobody knew what she was passing through…

Being understood is the luxury of a vexed soul.

Khizra Sheikh
4 min readDec 28, 2021

Everyone seemed to know all about Rachel’s private life- in fact, she didn’t really have a private life. People considered her to be their property. They were fascinated by everything about her. They couldn’t talk of anything else. Join any group of students in her high school and you could bet your last dollar that they would be talking about Rachel.

Rachel was not a short girl, nor a tall one; she was five feet, five inches and a young fair complexioned chubby innocent looking girl with golden curly hair reflecting as shiny as sun after a rainy day.

It is all a matter of confidence after all: if you make sure you looked your best and walked into a room being sure of that, you could attract people by the air of your light and Rachel had that sparkle of optimism which caught their eye.

In fact, Stephen wondered if it was her beauty that had given her so much drive? An attractive force to make people admire her? He had thought of other beautiful actresses and public figures who were always popping up in various social media platforms with a huge fan following and Rachel was an intelligent girl with inspiring achievement behind her already.

And as people do the funniest things when they are hurt and scared. Stephen had not realized her sensational voice until He heard her. The phone rings, He slides his thumb across the screen and answer it.

“Hey.”

“Stephen?”

“Yep,” he replied

“Stephen kind of need your favor.”

“What do you need?” he asked her

“I need you to see me in my apartment tomorrow.”

“Yeah Fine.”, he couldn’t resist recognizing the worry in her voice. Her voice sent shivers through his spines. Stephen hang up, took a pause and closed his eyes thinking about Rachel. It was an after a long time he was talking to Rachel. His one sided love has been screaming in his heart so long, giving him a faint signal of hope today.

Next day Stephen went to her apartment; the door was already open and Rachel’s deep blue eyes were brooding on the moon through her room’s window as it had no right of shining when she was gloomy.

She was gripping the cushion on her couch so tight with her knuckles all white. At first, Stephen thought Rachel is sick but he was incredibly wrong.

She’s not sick

She’s crying

Hard

So hard that there is not even a slightest interruption of sound.

I’ll go out of my mind tonight. Have dinner with me and help me live Stephen.” Her eyes had been angry, full of pain. The last stage of her blood cancer was consuming her slowly with every passing day.

Stephen felt a queer sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if somebody had punched him so hard; disorienting her whole body.

“How could Rachel?”

“How.”

Rachel gives him a subtle tug, and says:

“You know Stephen, when we die LIFE flashes before our eyes. The images of all those people who are our life come across our mind; not in a sequence or order, they just pass through our memory box. And with the last breath, all you have is that one only PICTURE that sticks in your head and holds everything. In my case, that final Image is going to be of you Stephen. I know how much you loved me but I was all chained by this disease. I never let myself love anyone.”

She was defeated by her own pity. The eyelashes of her vivid blue eyes stuck together with tears.

People like to simplify things, make them easier to swallow and digest. They always ignore the bit which complexes their very easy explanation. People are too quick and so was Rachel. She fought the battle of life alone.

But where was the point? It wasn’t her fault. She just played her role in the worldly drama where:

Some showcase their scars

Some exhibit artificial smiles

Some laugh in their own fantasy world.

And she played her role of a beautiful girl.

When leaping from topic to topic without bothering to explain Rachel had left so much far behind.

life replaced death too fast.

--

--

Khizra Sheikh

Rearranging 26 letters of the alphabets to hide you in my writings.