I was sitting on the floor, my back against the wall, staring at the cracked wall that looked like a shattered mirror…
And when I felt his small hand gently patting her shoulder, my heart trembled.
I looked at him.
His wide eyes… filled with unlearned fear, and an innocence that hadn't completely broken yet.
When he saw her gaze, he slid down and sat beside her—like a little bird finding its last branch to perch on.
I whispered, as if speaking to a ghost:
"Are you scared?"
He didn't answer.
But his eyes filled with tears.
A tear fell, quietly… the same quiet way soft rain falls on dry earth.
I stretched out my arms… and hugged him.
He was so light… it felt like holding the wind, or a shadow.
But the warmth that seeped into my heart…
was real.
"I'm with you,"
he whispered—so softly, like a child trying to convince himself he wasn't alone.
I smiled, a sad smile…
And felt that this hug wasn't just a hug.
It was a small vow… a promise between two lost souls, finding a brief shelter in each other.
As l stroked his hair, I told myself:
"He's my son… even if I didn't birth him.
He's my blood… even if it doesn't run from me.
He's me… when I was little."
In that moment, l felt… I wasn't alone.
Even if they all forgot him… even if the world rejected him.
I… wouldn't forget.
I wouldn't leave him.
They sat together, in the dark,
with a sliver of light leaking from under the door…
And between them… there was hope, crawling across the floor, searching for a place to live.
I saw something in him no one else had seen.
From the first day he fell into her arms, he became her child…
A child not born from her womb,
but delivered to her by life itself—
Maybe because they both… needed each other.
Shereen was healing his wounds with patience,
and he, unknowingly, was giving her a small hope…
that she could still love,
still protect.
Every time he cried,
I soothed him with an old song my mother used to sing to me…
as if telling him her story,
without words.
They hid together in that room,
escaping the house's screams, the father's fists, the mother's glares…
They created a tiny world,
where cruelty was forbidden,
where commands were silenced,
where painful silence wasn't allowed.
And Amir, though small, felt it…
He felt I didn't just want to protect him—
I saw myself in him…
The same loneliness, the same fear, the same feeling of being unwanted…
Yet still alive.
Still trying.
But Amir…
wasn't just a lost child.
He carried a wound deeper than his years—
A wound that had no words.
A wound written in the look of his eyes.
He was the son of a mother… who couldn't love him.
Not because she didn't know how…
But because she couldn't.
Every day she looked at him,
she didn't see a little angel.
She saw his father's face.
She saw the memory that carved itself into her flesh every night.
Did she hate him?
Maybe.
Did she run from him? Absolutely.
But the truth?
She couldn't live with him… and couldn't live without him.
And one day, in front of him…
She stood at the edge of the rooftop,
smiled softly,
and said:
"Forgive me, my son… I'm too weak."
And she jumped.
In that moment…
Amir stood still.
Small.
Alone.
And he knew—
from that moment…
he became an "orphan."
From the day his mother fell…
the house fell silent.
As if she'd never been there.
As if she'd never given birth… never screamed… never left a mark.
And Amir?
No one asked.
No one held him.
No one even called his name.
He walked the house like a shadow…
His voice unheard, his steps uncounted.
The whole family silently agreed:
"That boy… doesn't exist."
Days and years…
He faded into the walls,
buried alive.
The older he grew… the more he vanished.
Until Shereen saw him.
Not with her eyes…
But with her heart.
I approached him.
I told him:
"I see you."
And in that moment,
he learned, for the first time…
what a hug meant.
What it meant when a voice called you…
Not to blame you,
but to love you.
Shereen… wasn't just someone who saw him.
She was his first home.
His first mother.
Maybe…
his first salvation.
For years…
No one in the house cared.
No one asked.
No one even wondered why Miro had become "the madwoman's shadow."
They'd see him walking silently behind her in the garden.
Sitting by her door, waiting for her to come out.
Standing next to her as she stared out the window.
He didn't play… he didn't laugh…
But he was always there.
"Her son?"
"No… her brother's boy."
"Then why's he so attached to her?"
"Who knows… she's crazy, after all."
They all said that word…
But none of them really saw.
None of them really heard.
Miro…
He was the only one who believed her.
The only one who saw the truth in her eyes.
The only one who felt her pain when she cried in silence.
He grew… his body grew…
But his place never changed.
Still behind her, beside her, beneath her window.
And when they locked her inside…
He'd sit outside, his back against the wall,
waiting… without a word.
He learned silence from her.
He learned pain from her eyes.
And he learned love… from her embrace.
And one day… as he sat outside her door,
he heard her whisper softly:
"You and me… we're both forgotten, Miro."
"But I'm with you."
She smiled.
She cried.
And he told her:
"And I'm with you, Shereen."