All Those Days

I knew Rana was hiding a secret. She was obvious with her emotions, an easy book to read. The problem was, the words were hard to understand.
One day, she was bouncing around like a bunny—bright face, free hair and smiling. Everything seemed fine.
One day, Rana was spewing stories of her week, her day, and what she had for breakfast. Her voice was loud and clear, and it was easy to get lost in the comfort of it. Sometimes, it grew soft. When that happened, I wanted to hold her hand tight.
One day, she held her head up high and strolled confidently through the streets, feet landing hard and steady against the pavement. I knew that if she didn’t act strong, she would crumble, like the mountains that dealt with heavy winds daily. I lagged behind a little, wanting to let her feel more in control.
One day, she sniffled against the cloth of my shirt and looked at me with eyes storming with an ocean. They looked so lost, the edges rimmed with mist. She didn’t want me to say anything, but all I wished to do was stroke her hair and comfort her. I didn’t.
One day, Rana was quiet. Stiff shoulders and lips pressed tightly together. When I asked her what was wrong, she ignored me, instead awkwardly fumbling to get words out about a different topic. I let her.
Because one day, I hoped that she would tell me.

That day, I walked up to her, tapped her on the shoulder and laughed lightly, holding a secret behind my back. I plopped down next to her. No response. Frowning, I placed her favourite drink—an iced latte—in front of her. That, at least, managed to stir her out of her trance. She slowly took the drink and placed the straw in her mouth. She turned to me and stared. Like I wasn’t there.
“Rana, you good?”
She was still downing the coffee, face stone cold and eyes blank. Unseeing. My heart skittered.
“Rana.”
I shook her shoulders.
She blinked.
“Oh. Hi.”
Her voice was weak. She continued to sip, the brown liquid making its way up the straw like a lagging train. I nudged her.
She blinked.
She placed down the iced latte and smiled, the edges of her lips trembling ever so slightly.
“Are you…okay?”
It was a stupid question, but I asked anyway. She kept smiling. It was still shaky.
I'd always known that whenever we met, her shoulders were heavier than last time, her eyes more tired. I clenched my fists, nails digging deep into my palms. I stared at her for a moment, her frail figure collapsed upon itself, even as she tried desperately to hold her mask in place. I ached. Every part of me was screaming to do something.
“Hey, hey,” I whispered, voice cracking, “I’m going to hug you now.”
She gave the faintest nod, but it was all I needed. I hugged her. She stopped smiling and wrapped her arms tightly around me.
We didn’t let go for a while.

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