The notebook was still in my lap, heavy… as if it carried the souls of those who once inhabited sorrow.
I opened a new page… it was incomplete, but the first word on it hit me straight in the heart:
"Miro."
"I told him his name should be Miro, so that when I call him, he'd feel like someone truly sees him."
"He wasn't my son… but it felt like he came out of me… out of my pain. He used to sneak into my room after everyone had gone to sleep, hiding from his stepmother's beatings, and he'd ask me: 'If I died… would anyone be sad?' And I'd tell him: 'I wouldn't just be sad… I'd fall apart.'"
"He'd fall asleep in my lap, and so many times, it was me who cried instead of him. He was young… but he saw everything. The first time I wiped the makeup off his face, he asked me: 'Wasn't I pretty?' And my heart broke… because the whole world refused to see his beauty."
I turned the page.
"He copied everything I did. He wore one of my old scarves like a veil, walked like me, tried to mimic my laughter. I was scared for him… but happy he'd found himself, even if just for a moment."
"But the family saw him once… and they said: 'That boy needs fixing.' My father told me: 'Enough spoiling—make him a man.' And I told him: 'He is a man… in his own way. Something you've never been.'"
"Instead of protecting me… they accused me of corrupting him. They said Miro was influenced by me, that Sherry had to be erased from the house."
"We were the last two who loved each other… honestly… in this house."
Sherry turned the pages with trembling hands. She couldn't tell if the tears on the paper were hers… or Shereen's.
On the next page, a small paper was pinned. A child's drawing: a curly-haired girl and a wide-eyed boy. Below, in shaky handwriting:
"Me and Miro. We're not bad."
---
March 24
Today Miro came to me after school. His face was flushed, his eyes wouldn't settle in one place.
I asked him, "What's wrong?"
He said, "Nothing… I fought with Karim."
But I knew it wasn't a fight.
Miro didn't know how to raise his voice, didn't know how to yell. But Karim… Karim was different. His voice was loud, his eyes full of questions, always battling the world like it owed him something.
I let Miro rest his head in my lap, like he did when he was little. And then he whispered:
"What's normal?"
"Like… when I want to hold his hand… or when I see him laughing with someone else and I feel jealous… is that normal?"
My heart jolted… but my face stayed calm.
I told him:
"What's normal… is that you feel. What matters is… don't be afraid of what you feel."
He didn't answer. But his eyes welled up.
And I understood.
Miro loved.
And he loved a boy.
Not just any boy… Karim.
Karim, who always acted tough… but Miro had seen something else in him.
What would happen if the family found out?
Would it be like what happened to me?
…or worse?
---
April 8
Miro wasn't talking as much anymore.
He'd come, sit, stay silent.
His eyes were full of words he couldn't say.
And I… I tried to wait.
But today, something happened.
I was sitting on the balcony… when I heard them laughing below.
Miro and Karim.
Soft laughter… shy laughter.
The kind that spills from a heart afraid of being caught.
I went down quietly… stood behind the window, watching from afar.
Karim reached out, tucked a stray curl behind Miro's ear… and stepped a little closer.
Miro didn't move… but his face turned red, and he smiled.
A small smile, shy… but content.
Then Karim said:
"I like being with you… more than anyone else."
And walked away.
Miro stood there for minutes… then collapsed to the ground, laughing.
A laugh… soaked in tears.
---
April 12
Today… he confessed to me.
"I'm scared, Sherry… scared to love. Scared I'm not normal. Scared to lose him. Scared he'll find out."
I understood right away… Karim didn't know yet. But he felt it.
I told him:
"If you're not normal… then I'm not normal either. But see? I'm still alive.
Love doesn't kill you…
What kills you… are the people who try to stop you from loving."
---
April 19
Karim came to the house for the first time in months.
He walked in tense, greeting everyone with his eyes instead of words.
But when he saw Miro…
The whole world went still.
They sat in Miro's room.
The door half-open.
But I could hear.
Karim:
"Every time I leave you… I want to come back again."
Miro:
"I never want to leave you."
Then silence.
Like their closeness was enough.
And I stood outside… my heart pounding.
Not from fear…
But from hope.
"Miro deserves love."
---
April 26
Father started tightening his grip.
He watched Miro and Karim more closely.
And in those moments between them…
I felt his gaze change.
Not just "friendship," like they used to say.
Today… I found Miro standing by the door, his heart racing, eyes anxious.
"Grandpa's asking a lot about Karim," he whispered.
"I'm scared."
"Scared of what?" I asked, uneasy.
"Scared of people… of judgment… of what'll happen if they find out."
---
April – from Shereen's diary
The voice was loud.
The living room door slammed shut… and the whole house went quiet.
I ran without feeling my feet.
Stood behind the door… my heart beating like someone was sprinting inside it.
Miro stood facing Grandpa.
His eyes wide—not from fear… but from shock.
Grandpa stood like a mountain… his face hard… his voice cold as blades.
Grandpa:
"You think you're fooling us?
Sitting with that boy for hours, whispering, smiling…
You think that's normal?
That's shame, boy!"
Miro (voice trembling):
"I… I didn't do anything wrong."
Grandpa (shouting):
"It's not what you did… it's what you are!
You're soft… weak… acting like a girl!
Your voice, your clothes… and what's between you and Karim!"
Miro:
"We… we love each other."
The silence after those words… was terrifying.
I couldn't even breathe.
Grandpa:
"Love?
Is that what Shereen taught you?
She made you a disgrace… just like her!"
I almost opened the door… almost screamed…
But my hand trembled.
Grandpa:
"That name won't be spoken in this house again!
Shereen is dead.
And you…
You'll die if you keep down her path.
You'll be 'cured'…
Whether you like it or not.
We'll raise you again… from scratch."
Miro didn't reply.
But his eyes…
They were bleeding.
Not tears…
A scream trapped in liquid.
"Have mercy on my heart."
---
April 28 – from Shereen's diary
The shouting didn't stop after Grandpa went to his room.
I thought he'd leave him alone.
I thought he'd get angry… and let it go.
But what came next…
Was the beginning of the end.
Grandpa called me—his voice booming:
"Shereen! From now on, you won't leave your room.
Unless you want me to break your legs."
I couldn't argue.
His voice was full of hatred…
Like all the years I thought I'd escaped him…
Were just a truce.
The next day…
I heard them dragging Miro out of his room.
I saw him from my window… struggling…
His small hands resisting… his face soaked in endless tears.
They brought a sheikh.
The sheikh sat beside him… reading.
And Miro screamed… cried… begged:
"I'm not possessed!
I… I'm Amir!
I love!
This isn't a demon… it's my heart!"
The sheikh shook his head.
"This demon is sinful…
It needs cleansing."
And "cleansing"… meant lashes.
Every day.
At sunset.
They took him to the rooftop.
And I heard the sounds… from far away.
The whip.
His screams.
Calling my name.
"Shereen! Shereen!"
But I couldn't go to him.
They had chained my door shut.
One day…
Mona whispered to me from under the door:
"Shereen… Amir's getting worse.
But you have to know… Karim's dead."
Time stopped.
The picture Miro kept hidden under his pillow…
Him and Karim, smiling…
His heart, which had opened for the first time…
Shattered.
Karim was killed in a car accident.
They called it an accident.
But I knew.
They killed him.
In cold blood.
That night…
Miro didn't scream.
Didn't call my name.
The rooftop was quiet.
As if no one was being punished.
As if… someone had died inside.
---
May – from Shereen's diary
The night was heavy… like a wall pressing against my chest.
I sat on the floor… my back against the wall… breathing in broken gasps.
And then…
I heard the key in the door.
The door opened.
His figure was larger than the doorway itself.
Grandpa.
The man who never joked.
Whose word was law.
Whose eyes wrote destinies.
He stepped in, heavy-footed…
Left the door open behind him.
Grandpa:
"Stand up."
I stood… though my legs had no strength.
He pointed to the iron bars nailed over the window.
Grabbed a metal rod…
And pulled.
The bars fell… like a prison crumbling.
Grandpa (cold voice):
"Today… I'll give you a choice."
"Leave this room… live your life… but leave the boy to his fate.
Let him be cured… cleansed of the filth inside him."
"Or…"
"Stay here…
Suffer his punishment…
And maybe worse."
He stepped closer…
Looked deep into my eyes:
"By morning… I'll know your answer."
He left.
Left me standing… between my first breath of freedom…
And my last breath of conscience.
My life…
Or his?
Me…
Or Amir?
An open door…
Or another broken heart?
I stood by the window…
Reached out to touch the breeze.
But my heart wasn't free.
My heart was up on the rooftop…
Still waiting…
Still enduring.
---
Last page:
"I thought he was opening a door for me…
But he was offering me a coffin."
"Told me I had a choice…
As if I'd ever had freedom in this house of chains."
"Told me to choose between me and Amir…
But the end he offered… was hell."
"I'm Shereen… the one you called crazy…
Whose voice you silenced in the name of honor."
"I was the one who loved…
And you tried to cleanse love with fire."
"Amir wasn't possessed…
He was a child…
He needed an embrace, not a whip."
"I was that embrace…
And I broke… when you broke his heart."
"Today… instead of choosing between death and humiliation…
I'll be the fire you can't extinguish."
"I'll walk out… not in surrender.
I'll be the last sentence in this story…
A sentence you'll never erase."
"And I know…
One day…
Someone will open this drawer…
Read these words…
And feel me."
"Maybe… they'll continue where I left off."
"I'll be a word… a 'No'…
That keeps echoing in their hearts."
Sherry read the final lines… her heart beating like war drums.
She closed the notebook slowly… held it to her chest… as if hugging Shereen… hugging her past… her wounds… every broken version of herself.
She stood before the mirror…
Saw herself, for the first time, as one… not two.
Her features… and Shady's… melting into one truth.
The truth… finally strong enough…
To step into the light.
She took the notebook…
An old ink pen…
And wrote on the first empty page:
"This isn't the end of Shereen…
This is the beginning of a new voice."
She opened her window…
"I'm Sherry…
I'm the old pain…
And I'm the start of a new truth."
And that…
Was the lesson Shereen meant to leave.
Not through death…
But through the story.