12:43 a.m.
The blue light of Areeba's phone was the only thing alive in her dark room. The rest of the house was asleep — walls quiet, ceiling fan humming softly, the night stretching long and endless.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
Mohid is typing…
The three dots disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Her heart felt heavy. She didn't even know why she was involving herself. She had told herself a hundred times that she wouldn't interfere in anyone's relationship again. But Noor's trembling voice from earlier that evening echoed in her ears. The way Noor had cried. The way she kept saying, "It's not like that… he's misunderstanding…"
Areeba exhaled slowly and finally typed.
Areeba:
Mohid, it's not Noor's mistake. Why are you saying such bad things to her? She's innocent.
There was a pause.
Areeba:
Her sister somehow found out about your relationship, that's why she had to break up. You must have misunderstood her. Please stop saying those terrible things to her. She's crying.
Her thumb trembled as she continued.
I don't want to meddle in your affairs… but I had no other option. She didn't break up with you because of some random guy. Just call her and clarify things.
The message was sent.
A minute passed.
Then another.
Finally—
Mohid:
Areeba, you know nothing.
Her brows tightened.
Mohid:
We didn't break up because her sister got to know about us.
She sat up straight.
Mohid:
It's because she accepted the friend request of her ex-boyfriend.
The word ex-boyfriend hit her like a sudden slap.
Areeba stared at the screen.
Her fingers moved fast.
Areeba:
You're clearly lying. I know Noor. She didn't have any boyfriend before you. She said yes to you because you were pestering her. She told me everything about her.
There was a sharp reply.
Mohid:
Then why don't you ask her yourself?
Her jaw clenched.
Areeba:
Because I trust her. If she had been in any relationship, she would've told me. You're lying.
This time his reply came instantly.
Mohid:
She was in a relationship with Ali. Her junior in school. In 12th standard. And now he's junior in this same college.
Areeba's breath became shallow.
Ali?
Mohid:
I don't know why, but she keeps insisting on following him on social media. I told her countless times not to. She doesn't listen. And now you're telling me to say sorry? You know nothing about her.
The screen blurred slightly as Areeba blinked rapidly.
Areeba:
We know each other since 11th class. If she was in any kind of relationship, why didn't she tell me? You must be lying.
Mohid:
Then ask her yourself.
The chat ended there.
Areeba looked at the time again.
12:58 a.m.
Her room felt smaller suddenly. The air felt heavier.
Should she call Noor?
No. It's too late.
But what if it's true?
Her mind raced with a hundred thoughts. Noor's laughter. Noor's secrets. Their shared lunches. Their whispered conversations. Had there been a part of Noor she never knew?
1:10 a.m.
She lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. The fan blades moved slowly above her, casting faint shadows.
Sleep wouldn't come.
Her chest felt tight.
At 1:17 a.m., she picked up her phone again.
Areeba:
Noor, are you up?
The reply came quickly.
Noor:
Yeah. What happened?
Areeba didn't waste time.
She pressed call.
It was almost 1:30 now.
Noor picked up after two rings.
"Hello? Areeba? Is everything okay?"
Her voice sounded soft. Sleepy. Concerned.
Areeba swallowed.
"Is there anything you didn't tell me about yourself?"
There was silence.
"I don't think so… why? What happened? Why are you suddenly asking me this?"
Areeba closed her eyes tightly.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am. Tell me what exactly happened."
Her voice was steady.
Too steady.
Areeba's heart pounded.
"Do you know Ali?"
There was a pause.
"…Why?"
"Just answer me. You know him or not?"
"…Just an old friend."
The word friend echoed sharply.
"I heard that you both were in a relationship."
Silence.
Longer this time.
Then—
"…Yeah. We were. In 12th, I think."
The world seemed to tilt slightly.
Areeba felt as if someone had pulled the ground from beneath her.
"Then why didn't you tell me about him?"
Noor sighed softly.
"Our relationship was just for two or three months. Later we broke up. I didn't think it was necessary to tell you about it."
Necessary?
The word burned.
"Does Wisha and Safa know about it?"
"Wisha knew it. And about Safa… we met after years in college, so I didn't tell her."
"And what about me?" Areeba's voice trembled now. "Why do you always hide things from me? Am I not good enough for you? Or I'm not important to you?"
Noor's breath became audible on the other end.
"It's not like that—"
"Then what is it? Just tell me directly. If you don't want to be close to me, that's fine. I won't pester you. I will never come after you again. Just say it clearly."
Her voice was shaking now.
Tears were already falling.
"I already explained myself enough so you can understand me… but for you it's still not enough. What exactly do you want?"
Noor's voice cracked.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hide anything. I just didn't think it was that important."
Areeba couldn't continue.
Her throat tightened painfully.
She didn't want her parents to wake up next door.
She ended the call abruptly.
Immediately, Noor called back.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Areeba stared at the screen but didn't pick up.
The calls kept coming.
Finally, she typed:
We will talk tomorrow. I can't continue right now.
Her tears fell on the phone screen.
She switched her mobile off.
And then she broke.
She pulled the blanket over her face and cried — not silently, not gently — but with a pain that had been building for years.
She cried for every time she felt less important.
For every time she was the last one to know.
For every time she gave more than she received.
She cried until her chest hurt.
Until her eyes burned.
Until exhaustion wrapped around her like a heavy blanket.
She didn't even know when she fell asleep.
—
"Areeba… Areeba!"
Her mother's voice pierced through her sleep.
"Areeba!"
She jerked awake.
"Coming, Mama!"
Her head throbbed slightly.
She sat up slowly and walked to the washroom.
When she looked into the mirror, her breath caught.
Her eyes were swollen.
Dark circles framed them like shadows.
Redness filled the whites of her eyes.
She looked… broken.
"What am I going to say if Mama asks?" she whispered.
She splashed cold water on her face.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The coolness helped slightly.
But not enough.
She walked downstairs.
Her mother looked at her carefully.
"What happened to your eyes?"
Areeba quickly rubbed them.
"Something got into it."
Her mother stepped closer, gently holding her chin.
"Don't rub it. It will hurt."
She blew softly into her eyes, like she used to when Areeba was a child.
That small act almost made her cry again.
She forced a smile.
"I'm fine, Mama."
She helped with breakfast.
Washed dishes.
Swept the floor.
Did everything mechanically.
Her body moved, but her mind was somewhere else.
After finishing the chores, she went back to her room.
She locked the door softly.
Sat on her bed.
And opened her diary.
The familiar brown cover felt comforting.
She flipped to a new page.
For a few seconds, she just stared at the blank sheet.
Then she began to write.
---
Dear Diary,
Why does the truth hurt more than lies?
I trusted her.
Not because she told me everything…
But because I believed she would.
Is it wrong to expect honesty from the person you call your closest friend?
Maybe I am overreacting.
Maybe two months of a past relationship is not something big.
But then why does it feel like I was standing outside a door that was always half-closed?
Why do I always feel like I am the last one to know?
She said it wasn't important.
But I am asking myself…
If it wasn't important,
Then why does it hurt so much?
I don't care about Ali.
I don't care about Mohid.
What hurts is the silence.
The hiding.
The feeling that I wasn't trusted enough.
I would have understood.
I always do.
Then why am I never the one they choose to tell first?
Maybe I am too emotional.
Maybe I love too deeply.
Maybe I expect too much.
Or maybe…
I just want to matter.
She paused.
A tear dropped on the page, slightly smudging the ink.
She wiped it gently.
Continued writing.
---
I hate this feeling.
The feeling of questioning everything.
Was I ever that close to her?
Or did I just imagine it?
Why is it so easy for people to say
"It wasn't important"
When it was important to me?
Trust is not about big secrets.
It's about small truths.
And today, something inside me cracked.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just quietly.
Like glass developing a thin invisible line.
I don't know if I should forgive easily.
I don't know if I should confront again.
I don't even know if I'm hurt because she lied…
Or because I wasn't included.
All I know is—
I couldn't sleep.
And I cried like a child.
And I feel tired.
Very tired.
She closed her diary slowly.
But her thoughts didn't stop.
Outside her window, the morning sun was rising gently.
Inside her heart, a storm was still ongoing.
And somewhere between trust and doubt,
Between love and pride,
Between silence and confrontation—
Areeba sat quietly,
Trying to decide
If asking for honesty
Was too much to expect.