Chapter One: Broken Roots
Amira learned early that home was not a place of warmth.
Her father shouted at her for everything—her clothes, her grades, even the way she laughed. Her mother sat silently, letting him do it, nodding as if Amira's pain was her fault. She learned to hide, to shrink, to disappear inside herself. By the time she was twelve, she had perfected the art of smiling while her chest ached.
Lina's childhood was different, but the hurt was the same. Her parents demanded perfection—straight A's, perfect manners, perfect obedience. When she didn't meet their impossible standards, they screamed, hit, or locked her in her room. She grew up believing her feelings didn't matter, that the world would only punish her if she was herself.
Both girls became experts at hiding. They became quiet, cautious, wary of anyone who might see the parts of them that felt different.
It was in their final year of high school, in the chaos of shared classes and crowded hallways, that they met.
Amira noticed Lina first the way she held her notebook like a shield, the slight tremble in her hands when someone mocked her. It was a look Amira knew too well. One day, a small act of kindness a borrowed pen, a shared smile sparked something neither had felt before.
They began spending time together in secret. Library corners, empty classrooms, quiet walks home. Words became confessions. Confessions became trust. Trust became love.
But love did not come easy.
Amira's father raged when he saw a text from Lina on her phone. Her mother accused her of betrayal. "This is not normal," they said. "Stop this nonsense."
Lina's parents were worse. They screamed about sin, shame, and punishment. They forbade her from seeing Amira. They threatened, isolated, and humiliated her.
Every stolen moment they shared became a battlefield. Every embrace, a rebellion. Every whispered "I love you" was both courage and fear.
And yet, they loved anyway.
At sixteen, Amira and Lina understood the cost of being themselves. Schoolmates whispered. Friends turned away. Even teachers looked the other way. Outside, the world was cold, unforgiving, and cruel.
Inside, their love burned brighter. It was their only safe place the one space where they could be seen, be human, be real.
But happiness was fragile.
One night, Lina's parents found a letter Amira had written to her. Rage consumed them. They hit Lina until she could barely stand. They screamed until she couldn't breathe. Amira received threats and humiliation from her own family the next day.
The girls ran. They left the city with nothing but two backpacks and the hope that somewhere, a life awaited them where they could love freely.
And yet, the world outside was not safe either. They slept in cheap hostels, worked long hours, faced stares and whispers, and were sometimes forced to hide their love for fear of violence.
Every day was a struggle. Every night, a question: Is this love worth the suffering?
They didn't know then that their story would not end with safety or peace. They only knew that in each other's arms, for the first time in their lives, they were home.